Mary  J.  L.  McDonald 


Kimberly  placed  it  without  hesitation  on  her  shoulders 


ROBERT 
KIMBERLY 


BY 

FRANK  H.  SPEARMAN 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

JAMES  MONTGOMERY  FLAGG 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 

Published  by  Arrangement  with  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


•  .«•  COPYRIGHT,.  191 1,  BY 

•  y  •  I  CfiARLES'  .^GlilBNER'S  SONS 


Published  February,  1911 


IN  MEMORIAM 


TO  MY  WIFE 


Robert  Kimberly 


CHAPTER   I-;,  f 

THE    dancing    pavilion,    separated    from    the 
Casino  itself  by  an  arched  passageway  and 
affording  another  pretty  view  of  the  lake  in  the 
moonlight,   was   filled   with   young   people   when 
Alice  entered. 

"It  will  be  cool  here,  I  think,"  suggested  Dolly 
De  Castro,  leading  the  way  for  her  guest.  'The 
Hickories  is  by  no  means  a  gay  place,"  she  con 
tinued,  seating  herself  beside  Alice  where  they 
could  see  the  dancers  moving  in  and  out  of  the 
long  room.  "And  it  isn't  a  club.  There  is  just 
this  Casino  and  the  fields  for  golf  and  polo.  It  is 
a  neighborhood  affair — and  really  the  quietest 
place  of  the  kind  in  the  Lake  country.  Too  bad 
you  could  not  have  been  here  three  weeks  ago  for 
the  Kermess.". 

"So  Miss  Venable  said.     They  are  great  fun." 

"We   revive   one  occasionally    to   preserve   the 

Dutch  traditions  of  the  family,"  continued  Dolly. 

I 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Mrs.  Charles  Kimberly — Imogene — gave  it  this 
year.  Last  year  I  gave  it.  You  would  have  seen 
everybody,  especially  the  Sea  Ridge  people.  Frit- 
zie,  dear  ?"  Dolly  paused  to  stay  a  slender  young 
woman  who  was  passing.  "Miss  Venable,"  she 
explained,  still  speaking  to  Alice,  "is  our  favorite 
cousin  ami  will  make  you  acquainted  with  every 
one/' 

Fritzie  Venable  whose  lively,  brown  eyes  es 
caped  beauty  only  through  a  certain  keenness 
of  expression,  stopped  with  a  smile  and  waited 
on  Dolly's  word. 

"I  want  Mrs.  MacBirney  to  go  over  to  the 
Nelsons'  after  a  while.  This  dance  is  really  a 
young  people's  affair,"  Dolly  went  on,  turning 
to  Alice.  "These  are  friends  of  Grace's  and 
Larrie's  and  I  don't  know  half  of  them.  Take 
care  of  Mrs.  MacBirney  a  moment,  Fritzie,  will 
you,  while  I  find  Arthur?"  asked  Dolly,  rising 
and  leaving  the  two  together. 

Alice  looked  after  Dolly  as  she  walked  away. 
Dolly  had  the  Kimberly  height  and  preserved  it 
with  a  care  that  gave  dignity  to  her  carriage. 
Her  dignity,  indeed,^ showed  in  her  words  as  well 
as  in  her  manner;  but  in  both  it  battled  with  a 
mental  intensity  that  fought  for  immediate  expres 
sion.  Dolly  persuaded  and  dictated  unblushingly, 
though  it  could  not  be  said,  unpleasingly. 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I  know  you  are  enjoying  Mrs.  De  Castro  and 
her  lovely  home,"  said  Fritzie  to  Alice.  "Of 
course/5  she  added  as  Alice  assented,  "The  Towers 
is  on  a  much  grander  scale.  But  I  think  Black 
Rock  is  the  *  homiest '  place  on  Second  Lake.  I 
suppose  since  I  saw  you  yesterday  you  have  been 
all  around  ? " 

"Not  quite;   but  I've  met  many  lovely  people." 

"You  can't  help  liking  Second  Lake  people. 
They  are  a  kind-hearted,  generous  set — notably 
so  for  people  of  means." 

"Aren't  such  people  usually  generous?" 

Fritzie  looked  doubtful:  "People  of  large  means, 
perhaps,  yes.  Indeed,  the  only  trouble  here  is, 
there  are  too  many  of  that  sort.  Everybody  is 
prosperous  and  everybody,  with,  I  think,  two  ex 
ceptions,  contented.  I,"  laughed  Fritzie,  "am 
one  of  the  exceptions.  There  being  no  possibility 
of  preeminence  in  the  line  of  means,  I  believe  I 
have  in  my  role  of  discontent  a  certain  distinction; 
and  as  far  as  I  can  see,  as  much  fun  as  anybody. 
In  fact,  I've  often  thought  the  only  place  where 
I  should  care  to  be  rich  would  be  among  the 
poor.  Where  every  one  overflows  with  luxury  dis 
tinctions  are  necessarily  lost — and  I  like  distinc 
tions.  Isn't  this  pretty  for  dancing?" 

"Everything  over  here  is  pretty,"  said  Alice. 

"The  place  takes  its  name,  'The  Hickories/ 
3 


Robert  Kimberly 

from  the  grove  back  of  it.  You  see  there  was 
nothing  about  the  Lake  itself  to  serve  the  purpose 
of  a  country  club — no  golf  course,  no  polo  field. 
All  this  stretch  of  the  eastern  shore  is  a  part  of 
The  Towers  estate,  but  Mr.  Kimberly  was  good 
enough  to  set  it  apart  for  the  rest  of  us — you  have 
met  Mr.  Robert  Kimberly?" 

"Neither  of  the  Mr.  Kimberlys  as  yet." 

"There  is  Charles  now."  Fritzie  indicated  a 
smooth-faced,  youthful-looking  man  coming  in 
through  one  of  the  veranda  openings.  "That  is 
he  speaking  to  Dolly.  They  call  him  the  hand 
some  Kimberly." 

Alice  smiled:  "For  a  man  that's  rather  a 
severe  handicap,  isn't  it?" 

'To  be  called  handsome?" 

"It  suggests  in  a  way  that  good  looks  are  ex 
ceptional  in  the  family,  and  they  are  not,  for  their 
sister,  Mrs.  De  Castro  is  very  handsome,  I  think. 
Which  brother  is  this?" 

'The  married  brother;  the  other  is  Robert. 
They  call  him  the  homely  Kimberly.  He  isn't 
really  homely,  but  his  face  in  repose  is  heavy. 
He  is  the  bachelor." 

"Mr.  MacBirney  tells  me  he  is  completely 
wrapped  up  in  business." 

"Rather — yes;    of  late  years." 

"That,  I  presume,  is  why  he  has  nev^r  married." 
4 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Perhaps,"  assented  Fritzie  with  a  prudent 
pause.  "Some  men/'  she  went  on  somewhat 
vaguely,  "get  interested,  when  they  are  young,  in 
women  in  general.  And  afterward  never  settle 
down  to  any  one  woman,  you  know." 

"I  should  think  that  kind  of  a  man  would  be 


tiresome." 


Fritzie  looked  at  young  Mrs.  MacBirney  some 
what  in  surprise,  but  there  was  nothing  in  Alice's 
frank  eyes  to  provoke  criticism.  They  met 
Fritzie's  with  an  assurance  of  good-nature  that 
forestalled  hostility.  Then,  too,  Fritzie  remem 
bered  that  Mrs.  MacBirney  was  from  the  West 
where  people  speak  freely.  "Robert  is  deliberate 
but  not  a  bit  tiresome,"  was  all  Fritzie  said  in 
answer.  "Indeed,  he  is  not  communicative." 

"I  didn't  mean  in  that  way,"  explained  Alice. 
"1  should  only  be  afraid  a  man  like  that  would 
take  himself  so  seriously." 

Fritzie  laughed:  "He  wouldn't  know  what  that 
meant.  You  had  music  at  your  dinner  to-night." 

"Lovely  music:    the  Hawaiian  singers." 

"I  was  sorry  I  couldn't  be  there.  They  always 
come  out  to  sing  for  Robert  when  they  are  in  the 
States,  and  they  are  always  in  dreadful  financial 
straits  when  they  get  as  far  from  home  as  this,  and 
he  is  always  making  up  their  deficits.  They  used 
to  sing  at  The  Towers,  from  barges  on  the  lake, 

5 


Robert  Kimberly 

But  The  Towers  is  hardly  ever  opened  nowa 
days  for  a  function.  The  music  over  the  water 
with  the  house  illuminated  was  simply  superb. 
And  the  evening  winding  up  with  fireworks!" 
sighed  Fritzie  in  pleasing  retrospect. 

"There  is  Robert  now/'  she  continued..  "Do 
you  see  him  ?  With  Mrs.  Charles  Kimberly. 
They  are  devoted.  Isn't  she  a  slip  ?  And  the 
daintiest  little  thing.  Robert  calls  her  his  little 
Quakeress — her  people  were  Quakers.  She  seems 
lost  among  the  Kimberlys — though  Robert  isn't 
quite  so  tall  as  his  brother,  only  more  muscular 
and  slower." 

Robert  Kimberly  with  Imogene  on  his  arm 
entered  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  and 
walked  across  the  floor  to  take  her  to  her  husband. 
His  face  was  darker  than  that  of  Charles  and 
heavier  eyebrows  rendered  his  expression  less  alert. 
Fritzie  waved  a  hand  at  Imogene,  who  answered 
with  her  fan  and  greeted  Alice. 

"And  there  comes  Mrs.  Nelson — the  pale  bru 
nette.  Heroic  woman,  I  call  her.  She  has  been 
fighting  her  advancing  weight  for  ten  years.  Isn't 
she  trim  ?  Heavens,  she  ought  to  be.  She  lives 
in  Paris  half  the  time  and  does  nothing  but  dress 
and  flirt." 

"And  who  is  it  with  her?" 

"The  stately  creature  with  her  is  Dora  Mor- 
6 


Robert  Kimberly 

gan.  She  is  a  divorcee.  She  likewise  lives  in  Paris 
and  is  quite  a  singer.  I  haven't  heard  her  lately 
but  she  used  to  sing  a  little  off  the  key;  she  dresses 
a  little  off  the  key  yet,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
way  she  acts  sometimes.  They  are  going  to 
dance." 

A  small  orchestra  of  stringed  instruments  with 
a  French  horn,  hidden  somewhere  in  a  balcony, 
began  the  faint  strains  of  a  German  waltz.  The 
night  was  warm.  Young  people  in  white  strolling 
through  dim  veranda  openings  into  the  softly 
lighted  room  moved  at  once  out  upon  the  floor 
to  the  rhythm  of  the  music.  Others,  following, 
paused  within  the  doorways  to  spin  out  ends  of 
small  talk  or  persist  in  negligible  disputes.  The 
dancers  wore  the  pretty  Hawaiian  leis  in  honor  of 
the  Island  singers. 

"There  were  some  interesting  men  at  the  dinner 
to-night/'  said  Alice. 

"You  mean  the  German  refiners?  Yes,  they 
are  Charles  Kimberly's  guests/'  remarked  Fritzie 
as  the  floor  filled.  "There  they  are  now,  in  that 
group  in  the  archway  with  Mr.  Nelson." 

"But  the  smaller  man  was  not  at  the  dinner." 

"No,  that  is  Guyot,  the  French  representative 
of  the  Kimberlys.  He  and  George  Doane,  the  bald, 
good-looking  man  next  to  him,  have  the  party  in 
charge.  You  met  the  immense  man,  Herr  Gus- 

7 


Robert  Kimberly 

tav  Baumann,  at  dinner.  He  is  a  great  refiner 
and  a  Hawaiian  planter.  They  are  on  their  way 
to  Honolulu  now  and  leave  within  an  hour  or  two 
in  Robert  Kimberly' s  car  for  San  Francisco.  The 
Baumanns  have  known  the  Kimberlys  for  genera 
tions.  Should  you  ever  think  Herr  Baumann 
could  dance  ?  He  is  as  light  as  a  cat  on  his  feet, 
but  he  waltzes  in  the  dreadful  European  round- 
and-round  way.  The  black-haired  man  with  the 
big  nose  is  Lambert,  a  friend  of  his,  a  promoter 
and  a  particularly  famous  chemist  whom  Robert 
Kimberly,  by  the  way,  hates — he  is  a  Belgian.  I 
can't  bear  him,  either — and,  Heavens,  Guyot  is 
bringing  him  over  here  now  to  ask  me  to  dance!" 

Fritzie's  fear  proved  true.  However,  she  ac 
cepted  graciously  as  Lambert  was  brought  for 
ward  and  bowed  in  making  his  request.  But  she 
did  not  fail  to  observe  that  though  he  bowed  low, 
Lambert's  bold  eyes  were  glued  on  Alice  even 
while  he  was  begging  Fritzie  for  the  dance. 
Something  in  Alice's  slender  face,  the  white  hardly 
touched  enough  with  pink,  except  under  anima 
tion,  held  Lambert's  glance.  Alice,  already  prej 
udiced,  directed  her  eyes  as  far  away  as  possible 
under  the  inspection  and  was  glad  that  Fritzie 
rose  at  once. 

Robert  Kimberly  joined  Baumann  and  Edward 
Nelson.  'You  have  not  told  me  yet,  Robert," 

8 


Robert  Kimberly 

Baumann  began,  "how  you  put  in  your  time  here 
in  the  country." 

"I  have  a  good  secretary  and  do  a  great  deal  of 
my  work  here,  Gustav." 

"  But  one  does  not  always  work.  What  else  ? 
I  remember,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Nelson, 
"the  stories  my  father  used  to  tell  about  the  Kim- 
berlys — your  father,  Robert,  and  especially  your 
Uncle  John."  Baumann  radiated  interest  in 
everything  American.  " Those  men  were  busy 
men.  Not  alone  sugar-refining,  but  horses,  steam 
boats,  opera-houses,  women — always,  always  some 


excitement." 


"Other  times,  other  manners,  Baumann,"  sug 
gested  Nelson.  "In  those  days  a  fine  horse  had 
a  national  interest;  to-day,  everybody's  horse 
does  his  mile  in  two  minutes.  The  railroads  long 
ago  killed  the  steamboats;  newsboys  build  the 
opera-houses  now;  sugar  refines  itself.  Mere 
money-making,  Baumann,  has  become  so  absorb 
ing  that  a  Kimberly  of  this  generation  doesn't 
have  time  to  look  at  a  woman." 

"Nelson!"  protested  the  good-natured  and  per 
spiring  German,  "no  time  to  look  at  a  woman? 
That,  at  least,  cannot  be  true,  can  it,  Robert?" 

"Not  quite.  But  I  imagine  the  interest  has 
waned,"  said  Kimberly.  "When  a  man  took  his 
life  in  his  hand  on  such  a  venture  the  excitement 

9 


Robert  Kimberly 

gave  it  a  double  zest — the  reflection  that  you  were 
an  outlaw  but  prepared,  if  necessary,  to  pay  the 
price  with  your  life.  Nowadays,  the  husband  has 
fallen  lower  than  the  libertine.  If  you  break  up 
his  home — he  sues  you.  There  is  nothing  hair- 
raising  in  that.  Will  you  dance,  Gustav  ?" 

"I  want  very  much  to  dance.  Your  women 
dance  better  than  ours." 

"Why,  your  women  dance  beautifully.  Nel 
son  will  find  you  a  partner,"  suggested  Kimberly. 
"I  must  hunt  up  Mrs.  Nelson.  I  have  a  dance 
with  her,  myself." 

Alice  sat  for  a  moment  alone.  Among  the 
dancers,  Robert  Kimberly  moved  past  her  with 
Lottie  Nelson  on  his  arm.  Alice  noticed  how 
handsome  and  well  poised  Lottie  was  on  her  feet; 
Kimberly  she  thought  too  cold  to  be  an  attractive 
partner. 

Within  a  moment  Dolly  came  back.  "I  can't 
find  Arthur  anywhere." 

"He  isn't  on  the  floor,  Mrs.  De  Castro." 

"No  matter,  I  will  let  him  find  me.  Isn't  it  a 
pretty  company  ?  I  do  love  these  fresh  faces," 
remarked  Dolly,  sitting  down.  "The  young  peo 
ple  complain  of  our  being  exclusive.  That  is 
absurd.  We  have  to  keep  quiet,  otherwise  why 
live  in  the  country  ?  Besides,  what  would  be 
gained  by  opening  the  doors?" 


10 


Robert  Kimberly 

Dolly  had  a  pleasing  way  of  appealing  in  dif 
ficulties,  or  what  seemed  such,  even  to  a  stranger. 
"We  don't  want  ambitious  people/'  she  went  on; 
"they  are  killing,  you  know — and  we  certainly 
don't  want  any  more  like  ourselves.  As  Arthur 
says,"  Dolly  laughed  a  little  rippling  laugh,  "  'we 
have  social  liabilities  enough  of  our  own/  ' 

Arthur  De  Castro  came  up  just  in  time  to  hear 
his  name:  "What's  that  Arthur  says,  Dolly?" 

"Oh,  here  you  are!"  exclaimed  his  wife.  "No 
matter,  dear,  what  it  was." 

"  It  is  certain  Arthur  never  said  anything  of 
the  kind,  Mrs.  MacBirney,"  interposed  De  Castro. 
"If  any  one  said  it,  it  must  have  been  you,  Dolly." 

Alice  laughed  at  the  two.  "No  matter  who 
said  it,"  remarked  Dolly,  dismissing  the  contro 
versy,  "somebody  said  it.  It  really  sounds  more 
like  Robert  than  anybody  else." 

"You  will  be  aware  very  soon,  Mrs.  Mac 
Birney,"  continued  De  Castro,  "that  the  Kimberlys 
say  all  manner  of  absurd  things — and  they  are  not 
always  considerate  enough  to  father  them  on  some 
one  else,  either." 

Alice  turned  to  her  hostess  with  amused  interest: 
"You,  of  course,  are  included  because  you  are  a 
Kimberly." 

"She  is  more  Kimberly  than  the  Kimberlys," 
asserted  her  husband.  "I  am  not  a  Kimberly." 

ii 


Robert  Kimberly 

Arthur  De  Castro  in  apologizing  bowed  with  so 
real  a  deprecation  that  both  women  laughed. 

"Of  course,  the  young  people  rebel,"  persisted 
Dolly,  pursuing  her  topic,  and  her  dark  hair 
touched  with  gray  somehow  gave  an  authority  to 
her  pronouncements,  "young  people  always  want 
a  circle  enlarged,  but  a  circle  never  should  be. 
What  is  it  you  want,  Arthur?" 

"I  am  merely  listening." 

"Don't  pretend  that  you  leave  the  men  just  to 
listen  to  me.  You  want  Mrs.  MacBirney  to 
dance." 

"She  is  always  like  that,"  declared  De  Castro 
to  Alice,  whom  he  found  pleasing  because  her 
graciousness  seemed  to  invite  its  like.  ''  Just  such 
bursts  of  divination.  At  times  they  are  over 
whelming.  I  remember  how  stunned  I  was  when 
she  cried — quite  before  I  could  get  my  breath: 
'You  want  to  marry  me!'' 

"Was  she  right?"  laughed  Alice,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other. 

"Absolutely." 

"Is  she  right  now?" 

"Dolly  is  always  right." 

"Then  I  suppose  I  must  dance." 

"Not,  of  course,  unless  you  want  to." 

Alice  appealed  to  Dolly:    "What  did  you  do?" 

"I  said  I  wouldn't  marry  him." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"But  you  did,"  objected  her  companion. 

"He  was  so  persistent!" 

Alice  laughingly  rose:    "Then  it  would  be  bet 


ter  to  consent  at  once." 


Dolly  rose  with  her.  Two  of  the  dancers 
stopped  before  them:  a  tall,  slender  girl  and  a 
ruddy-faced,  boyish  young  man. 

"Grace,"  said  Dolly  to  the  blue-eyed  girl,  "I 
want  you  to  meet  Mrs.  MacBirney.  This  is  my 
niece,  Grace  De  Castro." 

The  young  girl  looked  with  pretty  expectancy 
into  Alice's  face,  and  frankly  held  out  her  hand. 

"Oh,  what  a  bloom!"  exclaimed  Alice,  looking 
at  the  delicate  features  and  transparent  skin. 
Grace  laughed  happily.  Alice  kept  her  hand  a 
moment:  "You  are  like  a  bit  of  morning  come 
to  life,  Grace." 

"And  this  is  my  cousin,  Mrs.  MacBirney — Mr. 
Morgan,"  said  Grace  shyly. 

Larrie  Morgan,  a  bit  self-conscious,  stood  for 
an  instant  aloof.  Alice  said  nothing,  but  her  eyes 
in  the  interval  worked  their  spell.  He  suddenly 
smiled. 

"I'm  mightily  pleased  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Mac 
Birney,"  he  exclaimed  with  heartiness.  "We've 
all  heard  about  you.  Is  Mr.  MacBirney  here?" 
he  continued,  tendering  the  biggest  compliment 
he  could  think  of. 

13 


Robert  Kimberly 

"He  is  somewhere  about,  I  think." 

"We  shall  lose  our  waltz,  Mrs.  MacBirney," 
urged  Arthur  De  Castro. 

"Oh,  we  mustn't  do  that.  Let's  run,"  whis 
pered  Alice,  taking  his  arm. 

"Who  is  Mrs.  MacBirney?"  asked  Grace  of 
Larrie  with  an  appealing  look  as  Alice  moved 
away. 

"Why,  don't  you  know?  Her  husband  owns 
some  beet  plants." 

"What  lovely  manners  she  has."  Grace  spoke 
under  her  breath.  "And  so  quiet.  Where  are 
their  refineries,  Larrie?" 

"In  the  West." 

"Wherein  the  West?" 

"  Somewhere  out  toward  the  Rocky  Mountains," 
hazarded  Larrie. 

"Denver?"  suggested  Grace  doubtfully. 

"I  fancy  that's  it.  Anyway,"  explained  Larrie 
coldly,  "we  are  buying  them." 

"Are  you?"  asked  Grace,  lifting  her  soft  eyes 
timidly. 

To  her,  Larrie  was  the  entire  Kimberly  sugar 
interest;  and  at  the  moment  of  making  the  Mac 
Birney  purchase  he  looked,  to  Grace,  the  part. 


CHAPTER  II 

EDWARD  NELSON,  the  counsel,  in  some 
measure  the  political  adviser  and,  as  to  the 
public,  the  buffer  of  the  Kimberly  sugar  interests, 
was  fond  of  entertaining.  Being  naturally  an 
amiable  gourmet,  his  interests  suited  his  tastes. 
Moreover,  his  wife,  Lottie  Nelson,  pleasing  of 
face,  with  a  figure  well  proportioned  and  with 
distinction  in  her  bright,  indolent  eyes,  loved  to 
entertain.  And  she  loved  to  entertain  without 
working  hard  to  do  so.  Morningside,  her  country 
home  at  Second  Lake,  though  both  attractive  and 
spacious,  and  designed  with  a  view  to  entertaining, 
was  already  being  replaced  with  a  new  home  more 
attractive  and  more  spacious,  and  meant  to  be 
filled  with  still  more  guests. 

Observation  and  experience  had  convinced  Lot 
tie  that  the  easiest  way  to  keep  people  in  hand  is 
to  feed  them  well.  And  she  quite  understood  that 
a  vital  part  of  the  feeding  in  such  a  philosophy  is 
the  drinking.  There  were  difficulties,  it  is  true, 
but  which  of  us  has  not  difficulties  ? 

People — provided,  they  were  people  of  conse 
quence — diverted  Lottie.  She  had  no  children— 

15 


Robert  Kimberly 

children  had  no  place  in  her  view  of  life — nor 
was  she  vitally  interested  in  her  husband.  The 
companionship  of  those  whom  she  called  her 
friends  thus  became  a  necessity;  the  annoyance 
being  that  not  always  would  the  particular 
friends  whom  she  wanted — men  chiefly — gather 
to  her. 

On  the  evening  of  the  De  Castro  dinner  and 
dance,  Lottie  was  in  better  than  her  usual  spirits. 
She  had  brought  home  Charles  Kimberly — who  as 
a  yachtsman  bore  the  title  of  Commodore — and 
his  wife,  Imogene.  Imogene,  the  little  Quakeress, 
did  not  like  her,  as  Lottie  was  aware,  but  Charles 
Kimberly  was  always  in  sorts  and  always  trac 
table — different  in  that  respect  from  Robert. 
Charles  and  his  wife  took  MacBirney  andFritzie 
Venable  to  the  Nelsons'  with  them  and  Alice  was 
to  follow  with  the  De  Castros. 

When  Lottie  reached  home,  Dora  Morgan  had 
already  come  over  with  George  Doane,  one  of  the 
Kimberly  stock  brokers.  These  two  assured  the 
evening.  In  the  dining-room  only  a  few — of  the 
right  sort — were  needed  for  good  company. 

But  more  was  in  prospect  for  this  evening — 
Robert  Kimberly  was  expected.  Nelson  came 
down  from  the  library  with  MacBirney  and  left 
him  with  Imogene  while  he  followed  Charles  to 
a  smoking-room.  Fritzie  and  Mrs.  Nelson  joined 

16 


Robert  Kimberly 

Doane  and  Dora  Morgan  in  the  music-room. 
Cards  were  proposed,  but  no  one  had  the  energy 
to  get  at  them. 

A  servant  passed  in  the  hall  to  answer  the  door 
and  Lottie  Nelson  at  once  left  the  room.  When 
she  reached  the  vestibule  the  footman  was  taking 
Robert  Kimberly' s  coat.  She  walked  well  up  to 
Robert  before  she  spoke:  "At  last!" 

"I  went  back  to  The  Towers  for  a  moment," 
said  Kimberly  in  explanation.  "Are  Charles  and 
Nelson  here?" 

"And  is  that  all  after  a  month — 'Are  Charles 
and  Nelson  here?'!"  echoed  Lottie  patiently  and 
with  a  touch  of  intimate  reproach. 

"We  have  a  conference  to-night,  you  know, 
Lottie.  Ho  ware  you?" 

She  put  back  her  abundant  hair:  "Why  didn't 
you  call  up  last  week  when  you  were  home  to 
find  out?" 

"I  was  home  only  overnight.  And  I  came 
late  and  left  before  you  were  awake.  You  know 
I  have  been  at  the  new  refinery  for  a  week.  We 
began  melting  yesterday." 

"At  the  big  one?" 

"At  the  big  one." 

She  took  hold  of  the  lei  that  he  had  worn  over 
from  the  dance  and  in  a  leisurely  way  made  a 
pretence  of  braiding  the  stem  of  a  loose  rose  back 


Robert  Kimberly 

into  it.  "This  is  the  prettiest  I've  seen,"  said 
Lottie.  "  Who  gave  it  to  you  ? " 

"Grace.  What  is  the  matter  with  it?"  he 
asked  looking  down  at  her  white  fingers. 

"You  are  losing  your  decoration,"  she  mur 
mured  with  leisurely  good-nature.  "Nobody  to 
do  anything  for  you." 

Kimberly  looked  at  the  parting  lei  with  some 
annoyance,  but  if  he  entertained  doubts  as  to  its 
needing  attention  he  expressed  none.  ''  These 
things  are  a  nuisance  anyway,"  he  declared  at 
length,  lifting  the  lei  impatiently  over  his  head  and 
depositing  it  without  more  ado  on  a  console.  "We 
will  leave  it  there." 

"Where  else  have  you  been  all  this  time?" 
demanded  Lottie  with  an  indolent  interest. 

"All  over  the  country — even  across  the  Rockies." 

"Across  the  Rockies!  And  a  whole  big  car  to 
yourself!  You  must  love  solitude.  And  now  you 
are  buying  a  lot  of  refineries." 

"Not  I — the  companies  are." 

"Oh,  it's  all  the  same." 

"Not  precisely;  this  MacBirney  purchase  is 
not  by  my  advice  or  with  my  approval." 

"He  is  in  there  now,  Imogene  is  talking  with 
him." 

"The  trip  was  extremely  tedious,"  saidKimberly, 
casting  his  eyes  slowly  around  for  means  of  escape. 

18 


Robert  Kimberly 

"How  could- it  be  anything  else  with  no  friends 
along?" 

"With  McCrea  and  two  secretaries  and  a  ste 
nographer,  I  hadn't  time  to  take  any  friends." 

"What  is  time  for?" 

"  I  should  say  in  the  West  it  is  valuable  for  get 
ting  home  with." 

"And  when  you  do  get  home?" 

:'To  build  more;  borrow  more;  control  more; 
sell  more;  spend  more.  I'm  speaking  for  all  the 
rest  of  you,  not  for  myself.  I'm  just  the  centrifu 
gal  to  throw  the  money  out." 

"Never  by  any  chance  to  live  more,  I  suppose  ?" 

"You  mean  to  eat  and  drink  more?  How 
could  we  ?" 

"I  don't  mean  to  eat  and  drink  more.  I  mean 
just  what  I  say,  to  live  more!" 

They  were  at  the  threshold  of  the  music  room. 
He  laughed  good-naturedly,  but  Lottie  declined 
to  be  appeased. 

"Lord,  but  I'm  sick  of  it  all!"  she  exclaimed 
petulantly. 

Kimberly  used  care  not  to  offend,  yet  he  always 
interposed  a  screen  between  himself  and  her, 
and  however  delicate  the  barrier,  Lottie  Nelson 
had  never  been  able  to  penetrate  it. 

"No  sicker  of  it  than  I  am,"  he  returned. 
"But  I'm  a  part  of  the  machine;  I  can't  get  out. 

19 


Robert  Kimberly 

I  suppose  you  are,  and  you  can't  get  out.  But 
you  are  too  young  to  talk  like  that;  wait  till  the 
new  home  is  finished.  Then  you  will  shine." 

She  uttered  a  contemptuous  exclamation,  not 
quite  loud  enough  for  the  others  to  hear,  as  she 
recntered  the  room.  The  others,  in  fact,  scarcely 
would  have  heard.  Fritzie,  Doane,  and  Dora 
Morgan  were  laughing  immoderately.  Imogene 
at  the  piano  was  playing  softly.  Kimberly 
stopped  to  speak  to  her. 

"I  forgot,  by  the  way,  to  ask  you  when  you 
sail,  Imogene,"  he  said. 

She  answered  with  one  hand  running  over  the 
keys:  "That  depends  on  you,  doesn't  it,  Robert? 
I  do  hope  you'll  get  through  soon." 

"Anxious  to  get  away,  are  you?" 

"You  know  I  always  am." 

"Where  are  you  going  this  time?" 
'To  the  Mediterranean,  I  suppose." 

"You  are  fond  of  the  Mediterranean." 

"  Every  place  else  seems  so  savage  after  it." 

"Lottie  says  you  have  been  talking  with  Mac- 
Birney." 

''Just  a  few  minutes." 

"How  do  you  like  him?"  asked  her  brother- 
in-law. 

Imogene  laughed  a  little:  "He  is  very  intelligent. 
He  confuses  me  a  little,  though;  he  is  so  brisk." 

20 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Is  he  entertaining?" 

Imogene  shrugged  her  shoulders:  "Yes.  Only, 
he  rather  makes  you  feel  as  if  he  were  selling  you 
something,  don't  you  know.  I  suppose  it's  hardly 
fair  to  judge  of  one  from  the  first  interview.  His 
views  are  broad,"  smiled  Imogene  in  retrospect. 
"  'I  can't  understand,'  he  said  'why  our  American 
men  should  so  unceasingly  pursue  money.  What 
can  more  than  a  million  or  two  possibly  be  good 
for — unless  to  give  away  ?"  Imogene  looked  with 
a  droll  smile  into  Kimberly's  stolid  face.  "When 
he  said, '  a  million  or  two,'  I  thought  of  my  wretched 
brother-in-law  struggling  along  with  thirty  or  forty 
that  he  hasn't  yet  managed  to  get  rid  of!" 

"You  don't  think,  then,  he  would  accept  a  few 
of  them  ?  "  suggested  Kimberly. 

"Suppose  you  try  him  some  time,"  smiled  Imo 
gene  as  she  walked  with  Kimberly  to  the  card- 
table  where  Fritzie  and  Dora  Morgan  sat  with 
Doane. 

"Travelling  agrees  with  you,  Robert,"  observed 
Doane. 

"The  country  agrees  with  you,"  returned  Kim 
berly.  "Good  company,  I  suppose,  George,  is 
the  secret." 

"How  is  the  consolidation  getting  along?" 

"There  isn't  any  consolidation." 

"Combination,  then?" 
21 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Slowly.     How  is  the  market?" 

"Our  end  of  it  is  waiting  on  you.  When  shall 
you  have  some  news  for  us  ?" 

"You  don't  need  news  to  make  a  market," 
returned  Kimberly  indifferently,  as  he  sat  down. 
He  looked  at  those  around  the  table.  "What  are 
you  doing  ? " 

'Tell  your  story  again,  Dora,"  suggested  Doane. 

Dora  Morgan  looked  at  Kimberly  defiantly. 
"No,"  she  said  briefly. 

"Pshaw,  tell  it,"  urged  Doane.  "It's  about  the 
Virgin  Mary,  Robert." 

Dora  was  firm:  "It's  not  a  bachelor's  story," 
she  insisted. 

"Most  of  your  stories  are  bachelors'  stones, 
Dora,"  said  Kimberly. 

Dora  threw  away  her  cigarette.  "Listen  to 
that!  Didn't  I  tell  you?"  she  asked  appealing 
to  Doane.  "Robert  is  getting  to  be  a  real  nice 


man." 


In  an  effort  to  appease  both  sides,  Doane 
laughed,  but  somewhat  carefully. 

"I  got  into  trouble  only  the  other  day  in  telling 
that  story,"  continued  Dora,  with  the  same  under 
current  of  defiance. 

Effectively  dressed,  though  with  a  tendency  to 
color,  and  with  dark,  regular  features,  flushed  a 
little  at  night,  Dora  Morgan  had  a  promise  of 

22 


Robert  Kimberly 

manner  that  contrasted  peculiarly  with  her  free 
dom  of  tongue. 

"Tell  us  about  it,  Dora?"    said  Lottie  Nelson. 

"It  was  over  at  The  Towers.  I  was  telling  the 
story  to  Uncle  John.  His  blood  is  red,  yet/'  she 
added  without  looking  at  Robert  Kimberly  to  em 
phasize  her  implication. 

"Uncle  John!"  echoed  Fritzie,  at  fault.  "Did 
Uncle  John  object?" 

"Oh,  no,  you  misunderstand.  It  wasn't  Uncle 
John."  Every  one  but  Kimberly  laughed.  "I 
was  telling  Uncle  John  the  story,  and  his  nurse — 
your  protege,  what's  his  name  ?  I  never  can  re 
member — Lazarus  ?  the  queer  little  Italian,"  she 
said,  appealing  to  Kimberly. 

"Brother  Francis,"  he  answered. 

"He's  not  so  awfully  little,"  interposed  Fritzie. 

"Well,  he  was  in  the  room,"  continued  Dora, 
"and  he  got  perfectly  furious  the  moment  he  heard 


it." 


"  Furious,  Dora  ?  Why,  how  funny ! "  exclaimed 
Lottie  Nelson,  languidly. 

"He  turned  on  me  like  a  thunder-cloud.  Poor 
Uncle  John  was  still  laughing — he  laughs  on  one 
side  of  his  face  since  his  stroke,  and  looks  so 
fiendish,  you  know — when  Lazarus  began  to 
glower  at  me.  He  was  really  insulting  in  his 
manner.  'Oh,  I  didn't  rknow  you  were  here,'  I 

23 


Robert  Kimberly 

said  to  hush  him  up.  'What  difference  should 
that  make  ?'  he  asked,  and  his  eyes  were  flashing, 
I  can  tell  you." 

"  'The  Virgin  Mary  is  no  relation  of  yours,  is 
she?'  I  demanded  frigidly.  You  ought  to  have 
seen  the  man.  You  know  how  sallow  he  is;  he 
flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  and  his  lips  snapped 
like  a  trap.  Then  he  became  ashamed  of  him 
self,  I  dare  say,  and  his  eyes  fell;  he  put  his  hand 
on  his  breast  and  bowed  to  me  as  if  I  had  been  a 
queen — they  certainly  have  the  prettiest  manners, 
these  poor  Italians — haven't  they,  Imogene  ?" 

"But  what  did  he  say?"  asked  Fritzie. 

"  'Madame/  he  exclaimed,  as  if  I  had  stabbed 
him  to  the  heart,  'the  Blessed  Virgin  is  my 
mother/  You  really  would  have  thought  I  had 
insulted  his  own  mother.  They  have  such  queer 
ideas,  these  foreigners.  My,  but  he  was  mad! 
Then,  what  do  you  think  ?  The  next  day  I 
passed  him  walking  up  from  the  lake  and  he  came 
over  with  such  apologies!  He  prayed  I  would 
overlook  his  anger — he  professed  to  have  been  so 
shocked  that  he  had  forgotten  himself — no  doubt 
he  was  afraid  he  would  lose  his  job." 

"George,  you  look  sleepy,"  Lottie  Nelson  com 
plained,  looking  at  Doane.  "You  need  some 
thing  to  wake  you  up.  Suppose  we  adjourn  to 
the  dining-room  ? " 

24 


Robert  Kimberly 

Imogene  returned  to  the  piano.  Kimberly 
walked  to  the  door  of  the  dining-room  with  the 
others.  "I  will  go  upstairs/'  he  said  to  Lottie 
Nelson. 

"Don't  stay  all  night/'  she  returned  perempto 
rily.  "And  come  have  something  before  you  go 
up." 

"Perhaps  when  I  come  down." 

Fritzie  caught  his  arm,  and  walked  with  him 
into  the  hall.  They  talked  for  a  moment.  "You 
must  meet  her/'  declared  Fritzie  at  length,  "she 
is  perfectly  lovely  and  will  be  over  after  a  while 
with  Dolly."  Then  she  looked  at  him  suddenly: 
"I  declare,  I  don't  believe  you've  heard  a  word 
of  what  I've  been  saying." 

"I'm  afraid  not,  Fritzie,  but  no  matter,  listen 
to  what  I  say.  Don't  go  in  there  and  drink  with 
that  bunch." 

"I  won't." 

"Whiskey  makes  a  fool  of  you." 

Fritzie  put  up  her  hand:  "Now don't  scold." 

Upstairs,  Nelson  and  Charles  Kimberly,  facing 
each  other,  were  seated  at  a  big  table  on  which  lay 
a  number  of  type-written  sheets,  beautifully  clear 
and  distinct.  These  they  were  examining. 

"What  are  you  going  over?"  asked  Robert, 
taking  the  chair  Nelson  drew  up  for  him. 

"The  Colorado  plants." 
25 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Our  own  or  the  MacBirney  ?" 

"Both." 

Charles  Kimberly  with  one  hand  in  his  pocket, 
and  supporting  his  head  with  the  other  as  his 
elbow  rested  on  the  table,  turned  to  Robert  with  a 
question. 

"  You've  seen  the  MacBirney  figures.  What  do 
you  think  of  them  ? " 

"They  are  high.     But  I  expected  that." 

"Do  you  really  need  the  MacBirney  plants  to 
control  the  Western  market?"  asked  Charles 
Kimberly.  With  eyes  half  closed  behind  his 
glasses  he  studied  his  brother's  face,  quite  as  oc 
cupied  with  his  thoughts  as  with  his  words. 

Robert  did  not  answer  at  once.  "I  should  hate 
to  say  so,  personally,"  he  remarked  at  length. 

"McCrea,"  continued  Charles,  "contends  that 
we  do  need  them  to  forestall  competition.  That 
is,  he  thinks  with  the  MacBirney  crowd  out  of  the 
field  we  can  have  peace  for  ten  years  out  there." 

Nelson  asked  a  question.  "What  kind  of  fac 
tories  have  they  got?" 

"Old-fashioned,"  answered  Robert  Kimberly. 

"What  kind  of  influence?" 

"In  public  affairs,  I  don't  know.  In  trade 
they  are  not  dangerous,  though  MacBirney  is 
ambitious  and  full  of  energy.  The  father-in-law 
was  a  fine  old  fellow.  But  he  died  just  before  the 

26 


Robert  Kimberly 

reorganization.     I  don't  know  how  much  money 
they've  got  now." 

"They  haven't  much,"  remarked  Nelson. 

"We  bother  them  a  good  deal  from  San  Fran 
cisco,"  continued  Robert  Kimberly,  reflecting, "but 
that  is  expensive.  Ultimately  we  must  own  more 
factories  in  Colorado.  Of  course,  as  far  as  that 
goes,  I  would  rather  build  new  plants  than  re 
model  rat-hospitals." 

Charles  Kimberly  straightened  up  and  turned 
himself  in  his  chair.  "Ten  years  of  peace  is  worth 
a  good  deal  to  us.  And  if  MacBirney  can  insure 
that,  we  ought  to  have  it.  All  of  this,"  he  ap 
pealed  to  Robert,  as  he  spoke,  "is  supposing  that 
you  are  willing  to  assent." 

"I  do  not  assent,  chiefly  because  I  distrust 
MacBirney.  If  the  rest  of  you  are  satisfied  to 
take  him  in,  go  ahead." 

'The  others  seem  to  be,  Robert." 

"Then  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said.  Let's 
get  at  the  depreciation  charges  and  the  estimates 
for  next  year's  betterrrients,  so  we  can  go  over  the 
new  capitalization." 

While  the  conference  went  on,  the  muffled  hum 
of  gathering  motor-cars  came  through  the  open 
windows. 

Robert  Kimberly  leaving  the  two  men,  walked 
downstairs  again.  The  rooms  were  filling  with 

27 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  overflow  from  the  dance.  They  who  had 
come  were  chiefly  of  the  married  set,  though  boys 
and  girls  were  among  them. 

After  the  manner  of  those  quite  at  home, 
the  dancers,  still  wearing  their  flower  leis,  were 
scattered  in  familiar  fashion  about  small  tables 
where  refreshment  was  being  served. 

At  one  end  of  the  music  room  a  group  applauded 
a  clever  young  man,  who,  with  his  coat  cuffs  rolled 
back,  was  entertaining  with  amateur  sleight-of- 
hand. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  room,  surrounded  by  a 
second  group,  Fritzie  Venable  played  smashing 
rag-time.  About  the  tables  pretty,  overfed  mar 
ried  women,  of  the  plump,  childless  type,  with 
little  feet,  fattening  hands,  and  rounding  shoulders, 
carried  on  a  running  chatter  with  men  younger 
than  their  husbands. 

A  young  girl,  attended  at  her  table  by  married 
men,  was  trying  to  tell  a  story,  and  to  overcome 
unobserved,  her  physical  repugnance  to  the 
whiskey  she  was  drinking. 

In  the  dining-room  Lottie  Nelson  was  the  cen 
tre  of  a  lively  company,  and  her  familiar  pallor, 
which  indulgence  seemed  to  leave  untouched, 

O  ' 

contrasted  with  the  heightened  color  in  Dora 
Morgan's  face. 

Robert  Kimberly  had  paused  to  speak  to  some 
28 


Robert  Kimberly 

one,  when  Fritzie  Venable  came  up  to  ask  a 
question.  At  that  moment  Arthur  and  Dolly 
De  Castro,  with  Alice  on  Dolly's  left,  entered 
from  the  other  end  of  the  room.  Kimberly  saw 
again  the  attractive  face  of  a  woman  he  had 
noticed  dancing  with  Arthur  at  the  Casino.  The 
three  passed  on  and  into  the  hall.  Kimberly,  lis 
tening  to  Fritzie' s  question,  looked  after  them. 

"Fritzie,  who  is  that  with  Dolly?"  he  asked 
suddenly. 

"That  is  Mrs.  MacBirney." 

"Mrs.  MacBirney?"  he  echoed.  "Who  is 
Mrs.  MacBirney?" 

"Why,  Mr.  MacBirney's  wife,  of  course.  How 
stupid  of  you!  I  told  you  all  about  her  before 
you  went  upstairs.  He  has  brought  his  wife  on 
with  him.  Dolly  knew  her  mother  and  has  been 
entertaining  Alice  for  a  week." 

"Alice!  Oh,  yes.  I've  been  away,  you  know. 
MacBirney's  wife  ?  Of  course.  I  was  thinking  of 
something  else.  Well — I  suppose  I  ought  to  meet 
her.  Come,  Fritzie." 


29 


CHAPTER  III 

THEY  found  Alice  with  the  De  Castros  in  the 
hall.  Dolly  looked  pleased  as  her  brother 
came  forward.  Alice  collected  herself.  She  felt 
a  momentary  trepidation  at  meeting  this  man, 
from  whom,  she  was  already  aware,  much  of  what 
she  had  seen  and  most  of  the  people  whom  she  had 
met  at  Second  Lake  in  some  degree  derived. 

She  had  heard  for  years,  since  girlhood,  indeed, 
of  the  house  of  Kimberly.  Her  own  father's 
struggle  through  life  had  been  in  the  line  of  their 
business,  and  the  name  of  the  Kimberlys  could 
not  but  be  haloed  wherever  refiners  discussed 
their  affairs.  Moreover,  at  the  moment  her  own 
husband  was  seeking,  and  with  prospects  of  suc 
cess,  an  alliance  with  them. 

Yet  in  a  moment  she  found  it  all  very  easy. 
Kimberly' s  manner  as  he  met  her  was  simplicity 
itself.  His  words  were  few  and  did  not  confuse 
her,  yet  they  were  sufficient  to  relieve  the  necessity 
of  any  effort  on  her  part  to  avoid  embarrassing 
pauses.  She  only  noticed  that  the  others  rather 
waited  for  Kimberly  to  speak;  giving  him  a  chance 

3° 


Robert  Kimberly 

to  say  without  interruption  whatever  he  pleased 
to  say.  Beyond  this,  that  the  conversation  was 
now  reserved  for  herself  and  Kimberly,  she  was 
at  ease  and  wondered  why  she  had  been  a  little 
afraid  of  him.  The  surprise  was  that  he  was 
younger  than  she  had  supposed.  She  began  to 
wonder  that  his  name  should  at  times  command 
so  much  of  the  public  interest.  Nor  could  any 
but  those  who  knew  him  have  realized  that  under 
his  restraint  Alice  was  experiencing  his  most 
gracious  manner. 

But  those  who  did  know  him  saw  instantly  how 
interested  he  was  in  her  youth  and  inexperience. 
Her  cheeks  were  already  flooded  with  pink,  as  if 
she  realized  she  must  do  her  best  to  please  and 
was  conscious  that  she  was  not  wholly  failing. 
Timidity  reflected  itself  in  her  answers,  yet  this 
was  no  more  than  an  involuntary  compliment, 
pleasing  in  itself.  And  whenever  possible,  Alice 
took  refuge  from  the  brother's  more  direct  ques 
tions  by  appealing  to  his  sister  Dolly.  Kimberly 
was  diverted  to  see  her  seek  escape  in  this  fashion 
from  his  directness. 

She  expressed  presently  her  admiration  for  the 
decorations  at  the  Casino  and  the  talk  turned 
upon  the  Hawaiian  singers;  from  them  to  Hawaii 
and  Honolulu.  Word  at  that  moment  came  from 
the  music  room  that  the  singing  was  beginning. 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly  without  any  sign  of  giving  up  Alice, 
followed  Dolly  and  her  husband  down  the  hall 
to  where  the  guests  wrere  gathering. 

The  group  paused  near  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
Alice  asked  an  explanation  of  the  chant  that  they 
had  heard  at  the  Casino  and  Kimberly  interpreted 
the  rhythm  for  her.  "  But  I  should  have  thought/' 
he  added,  "you  would  be  familiar  with  it." 

"Why  so?" 

"Because  you  have  been  at  the  Islands." 

"  Pray,  how  did  you  know  that  ? " 

"By  your  pronunciations." 

"Ah,  I  see.  But  I  was  there  only  once,  when 
I  was  quite  young,  with  my  father." 

"And  yet  you  have  no  lei  to-night?  That  is 
hardly  loyal,  is  it?" 

"We  came  late  and  they  had  all  been  given 
out,  I  suppose." 

"I  have  one  in  reserve.  You  must  show  your 
good-will  to  the  musicians.  Permit  me."  He 
turned  with  dignity  to  the  console  where  he  had  so 
unceremoniously  discarded  his  own  lei  and  picked 
the  garland  up  to  lay  it  upon  Alice's  shoulders. 

"But  Robert,"  Fritzie  cried,  "you  mustn't! 
That  is  a  rose  lei." 

"What  is  the  difference?"  asked  Kimberly. 

"There's  a  superstition,  you  know,  about  a 
rose  lei." 

32 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Mercy,  what  is  it?"  demanded  Alice,  pink 
and  smiling. 

"If  a  man  gives  you  a  rose  lei  you  must  marry 
him  or  you  will  die." 

"Fortunately,"  remarked  Kimberly,  lifting  the 
decoration  quickly  above  Alice's  head  and  placing 
it  without  hesitation  on  her  shoulders,  "neither 
Mrs.  MacBirney  nor  I  are  superstitious.  And  the 
roses  harmonize  perfectly  with  your  gown,  Mrs. 
MacBirney.  Don't  you  love  the  Islands?" 

"I've  always  wanted  to  go  back  to  them  to  stay. 
I  don't  think  if  I  had  my  choice  I  should  ever 
leave  them." 

"Neither  should  I.  We  must  get  up  a  party 
and  have  a  yacht  meet  us  in  San  Francisco  for 
the  trip.  This  fall  would  be  a  good  time  to  get 
away." 

His  decisive  manner  was  almost  startling;  the 
trip  seemed  already  under  way.  And  his  manner 
isms  were  interesting.  A  certain  halting  confi 
dence  asserted  itself  under  the  affected  indifference 
of  his  utterance.  Whatever  he  proposed  seemed 
as  easy  as  if  done.  He  carried  his  chin  somewhat 
low  and  it  gave  a  dogmatism  to  his  wrords.  While 
he  seemed  to  avoid  using  them  obtrusively,  his 
eyes,  penetrating  and  set  under  the  straight  heavy 
brows  which  contracted  easily,  were  a  barometer 
from  which  it  was  possible  to  read  his  intent. 

33 


Robert  Kimberly 

"You  have  been  frequently  at  the  Islands?" 
returned  Alice. 

"  Years  ago  I  knew  them  very  well." 
"Father  and  I,"  Alice  went  on,  "spent  a  month 
at  Honolulu."  And  again  the  softness  of  her  long 
vowels  fell  agreeably  on  Kimberly's  ear.  Her 
voice,  he  thought,  certainly  was  pretty.  "It  is 
like  a  paradise.  But  they  have  their  sorrows,  do 
they  not  ?  I  remember  one  evening,"  Alice  turned 
toward  Fritzie  to  recount  the  incident,  "just  at  the 
sunset  of  a  rarely  perfect  day.  We  were  walking 
along  the  street,  when  we  heard  the  most  piercing 
cries  from  a  little  weeping  company  of  women  and 
children  who  were  coming  down  the  esplanade. 
In  front  of  them  walked  a  man  all  alone — he 
was  a  leper.  They  were  taking  him  away  from 
his  family  to  be  sent  to  Molokai.  It  was  the 
most  distressing  thing  I  ever  saw."  She  turned  to 
Kimberly.  "You  have  never  been  at  Molokai?" 
"I  have  cruised  more  or  less  around  it.  Do 
you  remember  the  windward  cliffs  just  above  the 
leper  settlement  ?  They  are  superb  from  the  sea. 
We  put  in  once  at  Kalawao  for  a  night  and  I  called 
on  the  priest  in  charge  of  the  mission." 
"It  must  have  been  very,  very  dreadful." 
:t Though  like  all  dreadful  places,  disappointing 
at  first;  nothing,  apparently,  to  inspire  horror. 
But  after  we  had  breakfasted  with  the  priest  in 

34 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  morning,  we  went  around  with  him  to  see  his 
people/'  Kimberly's  chin  sank  and  his  eyes 
closed  an  instant  as  he  moved  his  head.  "I  re 
member,"  he  added  slowly,  "a  freezing  up 
around  the  heart  before  we  had  gone  very  far." 
Then  he  dismissed  the  recollection.  'The  attend 
ant  at  home  who  takes  care  of  my  uncle — Fran 
cis —  '  he  continued,  "had  a  brother  in  the  leper 
missions.  He  died  at  Molokai.  Francis  has  al 
ways  wanted  to  go  there." 

The  conversation  waited  a  few  moments  on  the 
singing.  "Miss  Venable  tells  me,"  said  Alice, 
presently,  "these  singers  always  come  out  to  sing 
for  you  when  they  visit  this  country." 

"I  have  met  most  of  them  at  one  time  or  another 
in  Hawaii.  You  know  they  are  the  gentlest,  most 
grateful  people  in  the  world.  Sha'n't  we  have 
some  refreshment,  Mrs.  MacBirney?" 


3S 


CHAPTER  IV 

"T  AM  hoping  it  will  all  be  settled  satisfactorily 
JL  soon"  said  Dolly  De  Castro  to  Alice  one  after 
noon  a  few  weeks  afterward.  She  had  invited 
Alice  out  from  town  for  a  fortnight  at  Black  Rock 
while  MacBirney,  with  McCrea  and  the  active 
partners  of  the  Kimberly  interests  were  working 
on  the  negotiations  for  the  purchase  of  the  Mac 
Birney  factories. 

"And  when  it  is  settled,  I  can  congratulate  you, 
I  think,  my  clear,  most  sincerely  on  any  issue  that 
associates  your  husband  and  his  interests  with 
those  of  my  brothers." 

"Indeed,  I  realize  that  it  would  be  a  matter  for 
congratulation,  Mrs.  De  Castro.  I  hope  if  they 
do  come  to  terms,  your  brothers  will  find  Mr. 
MacBirney' s  Western  acquaintance  and  experi 
ence  of  some  value.  I  am  sorry  you  haven't 
seen  more  of  my  husband " 

"I  understand  perfectly  how  engaged  he  has 
been." 

"He  is  an  unceasing  worker.  I  told  him  yes 
terday,  when  he  was  leaving  home,  tl  it  Mrs. 
De  Castro  would  think  I  had  no  husband." 

36 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Then,"  continued  Dolly,  pursuing  her  topic, 
"if  you  can  secure  the  little  Cedar  Lodge  estate 
on  the  west  shore — and  I  think  it  can  be  arranged 
— you  will  be  very  comfortable." 

Dolly  had  suggested  a  drive  around  the  lake, 
and  as  she  made  an  admirable  guide  Alice  looked 
forward  with  interest  to  the  trip.  If  it  should  be 
objected  that  Dolly  was  not  a  good  conversation 
alist,  it  could  be  maintained  that  she  was  a  fas 
cinating  talker. 

It  is  true  that  people  who  talk  well  must,  as 
a  penalty,  say  things.  They  can  have  no  con 
tinued  mental  reserves,  they  must  unburden  their 
inner  selves.  They  let  you  at  once  into  the  heart 
of  affairs  about  them — it  is  the  price  that  the  brill 
iant  talker  must  pay.  Such  a  one  gives  you  for 
the  moment  her  plenary  confidence,  and  before 
Alice  had  known  Dolly  a  month,  she  felt  as  if  she 
had  known  her  for  years. 

On  their  drive  the  orders  wrere  to  follow  the  pri 
vate  roads,  and  as  the  villas  around  the  entire  lake 
connected  with  one  another,  they  were  obliged  to 
use  the  high-roads  but  little.  Each  of  the  places 
had  a  story,  and  none  of  these  lost  anything  in 
Dolly's  dramatic  rendering. 

From  the  lower  end  of  the  lake  they  drove  to 
Sunbury,  the  village — commonplace,  but  Colonial, 
Dolly  explained — and  through  it.  Taking  the 

37 


Robert  Kimberly 

ridge  road  back  of  the  hills,  they  approached  an 
other  group  of  the  country  places.  The  houses  of 
these  estates  belonged  to  an  older  day  than  those 
of  the  lake  itself.  Their  type  indicated  the  de 
scent  from  the  earlier  simplicity  of  the  Colonial, 
and  afforded  a  melancholy  reminder  of  the  archi-= 
tectural  experiments  following  the  period  of  the 
Civil  War. 

"Our  families  have  been  coming  out  here  for  a 
hundred  years,"  observed  Dolly.  "These  dread 
ful  French  roofs  we  have  been  passing,  give  you 
the  latest  dates  on  this  side  of  the  ridge."  As  she 
spoke  they  approached  a  house  of  brown  sandstone 
set  in  an  ellipse  of  heavy  spruces. 

"This  was  the  Roger  Morgan  place.  Mrs. 
Morgan,  Bertha,  was  our  half-sister,  dear,  the 
only  child  of  my  father's  first  marriage — she  died 
seven  years  ago.  This  villa  belongs  to  Fritzie 
Venable.  She  was  Roger  Morgan's  niece.  But 
she  hasn't  opened  it  for  years — she  just  keeps  a 
caretaker  here  and  makes  her  home  with  Imo- 
gene.  To  me,  spruces  are  depressing." 

"And  what  is  that?"  asked  Alice,  indicating 
an  ivy-covered  pile  of  stone  in  the  midst  of  a 
cluster  of  elms  at  some  distance  to  the  left  of  the 
house  and  on  a  hill  above  it.  "How  odd  and 
pretty!" 

"That  is  the  Morgan  chapel." 

33 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Oh,  may  we  see  it?" 

"Of  course,"  assented  Dolly,  less  enthusiastic 
ally.  "Do  you  really  want  to  see  it?" 

It  was  Alice's  turn  to  be  interested:  "Why,  yes, 
if  we  may.  How  quaint-looking/'  she  pursued, 
scrutinizing  the  fa£ade. 

"It  is,  in  fact,  a  medieval  style,"  said  Dolly. 

The  car  was  turned  into  the  driveway  leading  up 
to  the  chapel.  When  the  two  women  had  alighted 
and  walked  up  the  steps  to  the  porch,  Alice  found 
the  building  larger  than  it  had  appeared  from  be 
low  the  Morgan  house. 

Dolly  led  the  way  within.  "It  really  is  a  beau 
tiful  thing,"  she  sighed  as  they  entered.  "A  re 
production  in  part — this  interior — of  a  little  church 
in  Rome,  that  Mrs.  Morgan  was  crazy  about,  Santa 
Maria  in — dear  me,  I  never  can  remember,  Santa 
Maria  in  something  or  other.  But  I  want  you 
to  look  at  this  balustrade,  and  to  walk  up  into 
one  of  these  ambones.  Can't  you  see  some  dark- 
faced  Savonarola  preaching  from  one  on  the  sins 
of  society?"  Dolly  ascended  the  steps  of  one 
ambone  as  she  spoke,  while  Alice  walked  up  into 
the  other. 

"You  look  as  if  you  might  do  very  wTell  there 
yourself  on  that  topic,"  suggested  Alice. 

"  But  I  don't  have  to  get  into  an  ambone  to 
preach.  I  do  well  anywhere,  as  long  as  I  have  an 

39 


Robert  Kimberly 

audience,"  continued  Dolly  as  she  swept  the  modest 
nave  with  a  confident  glance. 

They  walked  back  toward  the  door:  "Here's  a 
perfect  light  on  the  chancel  window,"  said  Dolly 
pausing.  "Superb  coloring,  I  think." 

Alice,  held  by  the  soft  rich  flame  of  the  glass, 
halted  a  moment,  and  saw  in  a  niche  removed 
from  casual  sight  the  bronze  figure  of  a  knight 
standing  above  a  pavement  tomb.  "Is  this  a 
memorial  ?" 

"Poor  Bertha,"  continued  Dolly;  "ordered  most 
of  these  windows  herself." 

"But  this  bronze,  Mrs.  De  Castro,  what  is  it?" 

"A  memorial  of  a  son  of  Bertha's,  dear." 

The  shield  of  the  belted  figure  bore  the  Morgan 
arms.  An  inscription  set  in  the  tomb  at  his  feet 
took  Alice's  attention,  and  Dolly  without  joining 
her  waited  upon  her  interest. 

"And  in  whose  memory  do  you  say  this  is?" 
persisted  Alice. 

"In  memory  of  one  of  Bertha's  sons,  dear." 

"Is  he  buried  here?" 

"No,  he  lies  in  Kimberly  Acre,  the  family 
burial-ground  on  The  Towers  estate — where  we 
shall  all  with  our  troubles  one  day  lie.  This  poor 
boy  committed  suicide." 

"How  dreadful!" 

"It  is  too  sad  a  story  to  tell." 
40 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Of  course/' 

"And  I  am  morbidly  sensitive  about  suicide." 
'  These  Morgans  then  were  relatives  of  the  Mrs. 
Morgan  I  met  last  night?" 

"Relatives,  yes.  But  in  this  instance,  that  sig 
nifies  nothing.  These,  as  I  told  you,  were  Fritzie's 
people  and  are  very  different." 

They  reentered  the  car  and  drove  rapidly  down 
the  ridge.  In  the  distance,  to  the  south  and  east, 
the  red  gables  of  a  cluster  of  buildings  showed  far 
away  among  green,  wooded  hills. 

'That  is  a  school,  is  it?"  asked  Alice. 

"No,  it  is  a  Catholic  institution.  It  is  a  school, 
in  a  way,  too,  but  not  of  the  kind  you  mean- 
something  of  a  charitable  and  training  school. 
The  Catholic  church  of  the  village  stands  just 
beyond  there.  There  are  a  number  of  Catholics 
over  toward  the  seashore — delightful  people.  We 
have  none  in  our  set/' 

The  ridge  road  led  them  far  into  the  country 
and  they  drove  rapidly  along  ribboned  highways 
until  a  great  hill  confronted  them  and  they  began 
to  wind  around  its  base  toward  the  lake  and  home. 
Half-way  up  they  left  the  main  road,  turned  into 
an  open  gateway,  and  passing  a  lodge  entered  the 
heavy  woods  of  The  Towers  villa. 

"The  Towers  is  really  our  only  show-place," 
explained  Dolly,  "though  Robert,  I  think,  neglects 


Robert  Kimberly 

it.  Of  course,  it  is  a  place  that  stands  hard  treat* 
ment.  But  think  of  the  opportunities  on  these 
beautiful  slopes  for  landscape  gardening." 

"It  is  very  large." 

"About  two  thousand  acres.  Robert,  I  fancy, 
cares  for  the  trees  more  than  anything  else." 

"And  he  lives  here  alone?" 

"With  Uncle  John  Kimberly.  Uncle  John  is 
all  alone  in  the  world,  and  a  paralytic." 

"How  unfortunate!" 

"Yes.  It  is  unfortunate  in  some  ways;  in 
others  not  so  much  so.  Don't  be  shocked.  Ours 
is  so  big  a  family  we  have  many  kinds.  Uncle 
John!  mercy!  he  led  his  poor  Lydia  a  life.  And 
she  was  a  saint  if  ever  a  wife  was  one.  I  hope 
she  has  gone  to  her  reward.  She  never  saw 
through  all  the  weary  years,  never  knew,  out- 
weirdly,  anything  of  his  wickedness." 

Dolly  looked  ahead.  ' There  is  the  house. 
See,  up  through  the  trees  ?  We  shall  get  a  fine 
view  in  a  minute.  I  don't  know  why  it  has  to  be, 
but  each  generation  of  our  family  has  had  a  brainy 
Kimberly  and  a  wicked  Kimberly.  The  legend 
is,  that  when  they  meet  in  one,  the  Kimberlys 
will  end." 


42 


CHAPTER  V 

TO  afford  Alice  the  effect  of  the  main  ap 
proach  to  The  Towers  itself,  Dolly  ordered 
a  roundabout  drive  which  gave  her  guest  an  idea 
of  the  beauties  of  the  villa  grounds. 

They  passed  glades  of  unusual  size,  bordered 
by  natural  forests.  They  drove  among  pleas 
ing  successions  of  hills,  followed  up  valleys  with 
occasional  brooks,  and  emerged  at  length  on  wide? 
open  stretches  of  a  plateau  commanding  the  lake. 

A  further  drive  along  the  bluffs  that  rose  high 
above  the  water  showed  the  bolder  features  of  an 
American  landscape  unspoiled  by  overtreatment. 
The  car  finally  brought  them  to  the  lower  end  of 
a  long,  formal  avenue  of  elms  that  made  a  setting 
for  the  ample  house  of  gray  stone,  placed  on  an 
elevation  that  commanded  the  whole  of  Second 
Lake  and  the  southern  country  for  many  miles. 

Its  advantage  of  position  was  obvious  and  the 
castellated  effect,  from  which  its  name  derived, 
implied  a  strength  of  uncompromising  pride  com 
monly  associated  with  the  Kimberlys  themselves. 

At  Dolly's  suggestion  they  walked  around 
through  the  south  garden  which  lay  toward  the 

43 


Robert  Kimberly 

lake.     At  the  garden  entrance  stood  a  sun-dial  and 
Alice  paused  to  read  the  inscription: 

Per  ogni  ora  che  passa,  im  ricordo. 
Per  ogni  ora  che  batte,  una  felicita. 
Per  ogni  ora  che  viene,  una  speranza. 

"It  is  a  duplicate  of  a  dial  that  Robert  fancied 
in  the  garden  of  the  Kimberly  villa  on  Lago  Mag- 
giore,"  Dolly  explained.  "Come  this  way,  I  want 
you  to  see  the  lake  and  the  terrace." 

From  the  terrace  they  looked  back  again  at  the 
house.  Well-placed  windows  and  ample  veran 
das  afforded  views  in  every  direction  of  the  sur 
rounding  country.  Retracing  their  way  to  the 
main  entrance,  they  ascended  a  broad  flight  of 
stone  steps  and  entered  the  house  itself. 

Following  Dolly  into  the  hall,  Alice  saw  a  cham 
ber  almost  severe  in  spaciousness  and  still  some 
what  untamed  in  its  oak  ruggedness.  But  glimpses 
into  the  apartments  opening  off  it  were  delightfully 
satisfying. 

They  peeped  into  the  dining-room  as  they  passed. 
It  was  an  old-day  room,  heavily  beamed  in  gloomy 
oak,  with  a  massive  round  table  and  high  chairs. 
The  room  filled  the  whole  southern  exposure  of 
its  wing  and  at  one  end  Alice  saw  a  fireplace  above 
which  hung  a  great  Dutch  mirror  framed  in  heavy 
seventeenth-century  style.  Dolly  pointed  to  it: 

44 


Robert  Kimberly 

"It  is  our  sole  heirloom,  and  Robert  won't  change 
it  from  the  fireplace.  The  Kimberly  mirror,  we 
call  it — from  Holland  with  our  first  Kimberly. 
The  oak  in  this  room  is  good." 

Taken  as  a  whole,  however,  Dolly  frankly 
considered  The  Towers  too  evidently  suggestive 
of  the  old-fashioned.  This  she  satisfactorily  ac 
counted  for  by  the  fact  that  the  house  lacked  the 
magic  of  a  woman's  presence. 

Alice,  walking  with  her,  slowly  and  critically, 
found  nowhere  any  discordant  notes.  The  carpets 
offered  the  delicate  restraints  of  Eastern  fancy,  and 
the  wall  pictures,  seen  in  passing,  invited  more 
leisurely  inspection. 

There  was  here  something  in  marble,  something 
there  Oriental,  but  nowhere  were  effects  confused, 
and  they  had  been  subdued  until  consciousness  of 
their  art  was  not  aroused. 

Alice,  sensitive  to  indefinable  impressions,  had 
never  seen  anything  comparable  to  what  she  now 
saw,  and  an  interior  so  restful  should  have  put  her 
at  ease. 

Yet  the  first  pleasing  breath  in  this  atmosphere 
brought  with  it  something,  she  could  not  have  told 
what,  of  uneasiness,  and  it  was  of  this  that  she 
was  vaguely  conscious,  as  Dolly  questioned  the 
servant  that  met  them. 

"Is  Mr.  De  Castro  here  yet?"   she  asked. 
45 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Yes,  Mrs.  De  Castro.  He  is  with  Mr.  Kim 
berly.  I  think  they  are  in  the  garden." 

"Tell  them  we  are  here.  We  will  go  up  and 
speak  to  Uncle  John." 

They  were  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs :  "  Sha'n't  I 
wait  for  you  ?"  suggested  Alice. 

"By  no  means.  Come  with  me.  He  is  really 
the  head  of  the  family,  you  know,"  Dolly  added 
in  an  undertone,  "and  mustn't  be  slighted." 

Alice,  amused  at  the  importance  placed  upon 
the  situation,  smiled  at  Dolly's  earnestness.  As 
she  ascended  the  stairs  with  her  hostess,  a  little 
wave  of  self-consciousness  swept  over  her. 

On  the  second  floor  was  a  long  gallery  opening 
at  the  farther  end  upon  a  western  belvedere, 
lighted  just  then  by  the  sun.  The  effect  of  the 
room,  confusing  at  first  in  its  arrangement,  was, 
in  fact,  that  of  a  wide  and  irregular  reception  hall 
for  the  apartments  opening  on  the  second  floor. 
At  the  moment  the  two  women  reached  the  arch 
way,  a  man  walked  in  at  the  farther  end  from  the 
terrace. 

"There  is  Robert,  now!"  Dolly  exclaimed.  He 
was  opening  the  door  of  a  room  near  at  hand 
when  he  saw  his  sister  with  Alice,  and  came  for 
ward  to  meet  them.  As  he  did  so,  a  door  mid 
way  down  the  hall  opened  and  a  man  clad  in  a 
black  habit  crossed  between  Kimberly  and  Alice. 


Robert  Kimberly 

'That  is  Francis,  who  takes  care  of  Uncle 
John/'  said  Dolly.  Francis,  walked  toward  the 
balcony  without  seeing  the  visitors,  but  his  ear 
caught  the  tones  of  Dolly's  voice  and  she  waved 
a  hand  at  him  as  he  turned  his  head.  He  paused 
to  bow  and  continued  his  way  through  a  balcony 
door. 

As  Kimberly  came  forward  his  face  was  so 
nearly  without  a  smile  that  Alice  for  a  moment 
was  chilled. 

"I  brought  Mrs.  MacBirney  in  to  see  Uncle  John 
a  moment,  Robert.  How  are  you  ?"  Dolly  asked. 

"  Thank  you,  very  well.  And  it  is  a  pleasure 
to  see  Mrs.  MacBirney,  Dolly." 

He  looked  into  Alice's  eyes  as  he  spoke.  She 
thanked  him,  simply.  Dolly  made  a  remark  but 
Alice  did  not  catch  it.  In  some  confusion  of 
thought  she  was  absurdly  conscious  that  Kimber 
ly  was  looking  at  her  and  that  his  eyes  were  gray, 
that  he  wore  a  suit  of  gray  and  that  she  now, 
exchanging  compliments  with  him,  was  clad  in 
lavender.  The  three  talked  together  for  some 
moments.  Yet  something  formal  remained  in 
Kimberly's  manner  and  Alice  was  already  the 
least  bit  on  the  defensive. 

She  was,  at  any  rate,  glad  to  feel  that  her  motor 
ing  rig  would  bear  inspection,  for  it  seemed  as  if 
his  eyes,  without  offensively  appearing  to  do  so, 

47 


Robert  Kimberly 

took  in  the  slightest  detail  of  her  appearance. 
His  words  were  of  a  piece  with  his  manner.  They 
were  agreeable,  but  either  what  he  said  lacked  en 
thusiasm  or  preoccupation  clouded  his  efforts  to 
be  cordial. 

"They  told  us/'  said  Dolly,  at  length,  "you 
were  in  the  garden." 

"Arthur  is  down  there  somewhere,"  returned 
Kimberly.  "We  will  go  this  way  for  Uncle  John," 
he  added.  "Francis  is  giving  him  an  airing." 

They  walked  out  to  the  belvedere.  Facing  the 
sunset,  Alice  saw  in  an  invalid  chair  an  old  man 
with  a  wrinkled  white  face.  Dolly,  hastening  for 
ward,  greeted  him  in  elevated  tones.  Kimberly 
turned  to  Alice  with  a  suggestion  of  humor  as  they 
waited  a  little  way  from  Dolly's  hand.  "My  sister, 
curiously  enough,"  said  he, "  always  forgets  that  Un 
cle  John  is  not  deaf.  And  he  doesn't  like  it  a  bit." 

"Many  people  instinctively  speak  louder  to  in 
valids,"  said  Alice.  Uncle  John's  eyes  turned 
slowly  toward  Alice  as  he  heard  her  voice.  Dolly, 
evidently,  was  referring  to  her,  and  beckoned  her 
to  come  nearer.  Alice  saw  the  old  man  looking  at 
her  with  the  slow  care  of  the  paralytic — of  one 
who  has  learned  to  distrust  his  physical  faculties. 
Alice  disliked  his  eyes.  He  tried  to  rise,  but  Dolly 
frowned  on  his  attempt:  it  looked  like  a  failure, 
anyway,  and  he  greeted  Alice  from  his  chair. 

43 


Robert  Kimberly 

"You  are  getting  altogether  too  spry,  Uncle 
John,"  cried  Dolly. 

His  eyes  turned  slowly  from  Alice's  face  to 
Dolly's  and  he  looked  at  his  talkative  niece  quiz 
zically:  "Am  I?"  Then,  with  the  mildly  sus 
picious  smile  on  his  face,  his  eyes  returned  to  Alice. 
Kimberly  watched  his  uncle. 

"They  say  you  want  to  ride  horseback/'  con 
tinued  Dolly,  jocularly.  He  looked  at  her  again: 
"Do  they  ?"  Then  he  looked  back  at  Alice. 

Kimberly,  his  hands  half-way  in  the  pockets  of 
his  sack-coat,  turned  in  protest:  "I  think  you 
two  go  through  this  every  time  you  come  over, 
Dolly."  Dolly  waved  her  hand  with  a  laugh. 
Uncle  John  this  time  did  not  even  take  the  trouble 
to  look  around.  He  continued  to  smile  at  Alice 
even  while  he  returned  to  Robert  his  non-com- 
mital:  "Do  we?" 

Alice  felt  desirous  of  edging  away  from  Uncle 
John's  kind  of  Kimberly  eyes.  "You  ought  to 
get  better  here  very  fast,  Mr.  Kimberly,"  she  said 
to  him  briskly.  "This  lovely  prospect!"  she  ex 
claimed,  looking  about  her.  "And  in  every 
direction." 

"It  is  pretty  toward  the  lake,"  Robert  volun 
teered,  knowing  that  Uncle  John  would  merely 
look  at  Alice  without  response. 

He  led  the  way  as  he  spoke  toward  the  mirrored 
49 


Robert  Kimberly 

sheet  of  water  and,  as  Alice  came  to  his  side, 
pointed  out  the  features  of  the  landscape.  Dolly 
sat  a  moment  with  Uncle  John  and  joined  Kim 
berly  and  Alice  as  they  walked  on. 

They  encountered  the  attendant,  Brother  Fran 
cis,  who  had  retreated  as  far  as  he  could  from  the 
visitors.  Dolly,  greeting  him  warmly,  turned  to 
Alice.  "Mrs.  MacBirney,  this  is  Brother  Francis 
who  takes  care — and  such  excellent  care ! — of  Uncle 
John." 

Brother  Francis's  features  were  spare.  His 
slender  nose  emphasized  the  strength  of  his  face. 
But  if  his  expression  at  the  moment  was  sober, 
and  his  dark  eyes  looked  as  if  his  thoughts  might 
be  away,  they  were  kindly.  His  eyes,  too,  fell 
almost  at  the  instant  Dolly  spoke  and  he  only 
bowed  his  greeting  to  Alice.  But  with  Francis 
a  bow  was  everything.  Whether  he  welcomed, 
tolerated,  or  disapproved,  his  bow  clearly  and 
sufficiently  signified. 

His  greeting  of  Alice  expressed  deference  and 
sincerity.  But  there  was  even  more  in  it — some 
thing  of  the  sensible  attitude  of  a  gentleman  who, 
in  meeting  a  lady  in  passing,  and  being  himself 
an  attendant,  desires  to  be  so  considered  and  seeks 
with  his  greeting  to  dismiss  himself  from  the 
situation.  To  this  end,  however,  Francis's  efforts 
were  unsuccessful. 

5° 


Robert  Kimberly 

"He  is  the  most  modest  man  in  the  world," 
murmured  Dolly,  in  concluding  a  eulogium,  de 
livered  to  Alice  almost  in  the  poor  Brother's  face. 

"Then  why  not  spare  his  feelings?"  suggested 
Kimberly. 

"  Because  I  don't  believe  in  hiding  a  light  under 
a  bushel,"  returned  Dolly,  vigorously.  "  There 
is  so  little  modesty  left  nowadays— 

"That  you  want  to  be  rid  of  what  there  is," 
suggested  Kimberly. 

"That  when  I  find  it  I  think  it  a  duty  to  recog 
nize  it,"  Dolly  persisted. 

Brother  Francis  maintained  his  composure  as 
well  as  he  could.  Indeed,  self-consciousness 
seemed  quite  lacking  in  him.  "Surely,"  he 
smiled,  bowing  again,  "Madame  De  Castro  has  a 
good  heart.  That,"  he  added  to  Alice,  italicizing 
his  words  with  an  expressive  forefinger,  "is  the 
real  secret.  But  I  see  danger  even  if  one  should 
possess  a  gift  so  precious  as  modesty,"  he  con 
tinued,  raising  his  finger  this  time  in  mild  admoni 
tion;  "when  you — how  do  you  say  in  English— 
'trot  out'  the  modesty  and  set  it  up  to  look  at"- 
Francis's  large  eyes  grew  luminous  in  pantomime 
— "the  first  thing  you  know,  pff!  Where  is  it? 
You  search."  Brother  Francis  beat  the  skirt  of  his 
black  gown  with  his  hands,  and  shook  it  as  if  to 
dislodge  the  missing  virtue.  Then  holding  his 

51 


Robert  Kimberly 

empty  palms  upward  and  outward,  and  adding 
the  dismay  of  his  shoulders  to  the  fancied  situa 
tion,  he  asked:  "Where  is  it?  It  is  gone!" 

"Which  means  we  shouldn't  tempt  Brother 
Francis's  modesty,"  interposed  Alice. 

Francis  looked  at  Alice  inquiringly.  "You  are 
a  Catholic?"  he  said,  "your  husband  not." 

Alice  laughed:    "How  did  you  know?" 

Francis  waved  his  hand  toward  his  informant: 
"Mr.  Kimberly." 

The  answer  surprised  Alice.  She  looked  at 
Kimberly. 

There  was  an  instant  of  embarrassment.  "Fran 
cis  feels  our  pagan  atmosphere  so  keenly,"  Kim 
berly  said  slowly,  "that  I  gave  him  the  news  about 
you  as  a  bracer — just  to  let  him  know  we  had  a 
friend  at  court  even  if  we  were  shut  out  our 
selves." 

"He  told  me,"  continued  Francis,  with  humor, 
"that  a  Catholic  lady  was  coming  this  afternoon, 
and  to  put  on  my  new  habit." 

"Which,  of  course,  you  did  not  do,"  interposed 
Kimberly,  regaining  the  situation. 

Brother  Francis  looked  deprecatingly  at  his 
shiny  serge. 

Dolly  and  Alice  laughed.  "Mr.  Kimberly 
didn't  understand  that  you  kept  on  your  old  one 
out  of  humility,"  said  Alice.  "But  how  did  you 

52 


Robert  Kimberly 

know  anything  about  my  religion?"  she  asked, 
turning  to  Kimberly. 

Francis  took  this  chance  to  slip  away  to  his 
charge. 

"Arthur  De  Castro  is  the  culprit/'  answered 
Kimberly.  "He  told  me  some  time  ago." 

uYou  have  a  good  memory." 

"For  some  things.  Won't  you  pour  tea  for 
Mrs.  MacBirney,  Dolly  ?  Let  us  go  downstairs, 
anyway." 

He  walked  with  Alice  into  the  house,  talking  as 
they  went. 

Dolly  bent  over  Uncle  John's  chair.  "Isn't 
she  nice?"  she  whispered,  nodding  toward  Alice 
as  Alice  disappeared  with  Kimberly.  "You 
know  Madame  De  Castro  went  to  school  in  Paris 
with  her  mother,  who  was  a  De  Gallon,  and  her 
father — Alice's  grandfather — was  the  last  man  in 
Louisville  to  wear  a  queue." 

Uncle  John  seemed  not  greatly  moved  at  this 
information,  but  did  look  reminiscent.  "What 
was  her  father's  name?" 

"Alice's  father  was  named  Marshall.  He  and 
her  mother  both  are  dead.  She  has  no  near 
relatives." 

"I  remember  Marshall — he  was  a  refiner." 

"Precisely;  he  met  with  reverses  a  few  years 
ago." 

S3 


Robert  Kimberly 

Uncle  John  looked  after  Alice  with  his  feeble, 
questioning  grin.  "Fine  looking,"  he  muttered, 
still  looking  after  her  much  as  the  toothless  giant 
looked  after  Christian  as  he  passed  his  cave.  "  Fine 
looking." 

Dolly  was  annoyed:  "Oh,  you're  always  think 
ing  about  fine  looks!  She  is  nice." 

Uncle  John  smiled  undismayed.    "Is  she?" 


CHAPTER  VI 

A^ICE  had  been  married  five  years — it  seemed 
a  long  time.  The  first  five  years  of  married 
life  are  likely  to  be  long  enough  to  chart  pretty 
accurately  the  currents  of  the  future,  however  in 
sufficient  to  predict  just  where  those  currents  will 
carry  one. 

Much  disillusioning  comes  in  the  first  five 
years;  when  they  have  passed  we  know  less  of 
ourselves  and  more  of  our  consort.  Undoubtedly 
the  complement  of  this  is  true,  and  our  consort 
knows  more  of  us;  but  this  thought,  not  always 
reassuring,  comes  only  when  we  reflect  concern 
ing  ourselves,  which  fortunately,  perhaps,  is  not 
often.  Married  people,  if  we  may  judge  from 
\vhat  they  say,  tend  to  reflect  more  concerning 
their  mates. 

Alice,  it  is  certain,  knew  less  of  herself.  Much 
of  the  confidence  of  five  years  earlier  she  had 
parted  with,  some  of  it  cruelly.  Yet  coming 
at  twenty-five  into  the  Kimberly  circle,  and  with 
the  probability  of  remaining  in  it,  of  its  being  to 
her  a  new  picture  of  life,  Alice  gradually  renewed 
her  youth.  Some  current  flowing  from  this  joy 

55 


Robert  Kimberly 

of  living  seemed  to  revive  in  her  the  illusions  of 
girlhood.  All  that  she  now  questioned  was 
whether  it  really  was  for  her. 

Her  husband  enjoyed  her  promise  of  success  in 
their  new  surroundings  without  realizing  in  the 
least  how  clearly  those  about  them  discriminated 
between  his  wife  and  himself.  She  brought  one 
quality  that  was  priceless  among  those  with 
whom  she  now  mingled — freshness. 

Among  such  people  her  wares  of  mental  apt 
ness,  intelligence,  amiability,  not  to  discuss  a 
charm  of  person  that  gave  her  a  place  among 
women,  were  rated  higher  than  they  could  have 
been  elsewhere.  She  breathed  in  her  new  at 
mosphere  with  a  renewed  confidence,  for  nothing 
is  more  gratifying  than  to  be  judged  by  what  we 
believe  to  be  the  best  in  us;  and  nothing  more  re 
assuring  after  being  neglected  by  stupid  people 
than  to  find  ourselves  approved  by  the  best. 

Walter  MacBirney,  her  husband,  representing 
himself  and  his  Western  associates,  and  now 
looked  on  by  them  as  a  man  who  had  forced  recog 
nition  from  the  Kimberly  interests,  made  on  his 
side,  too,  a  favorable  impression  among  the  men 
with  whom  his  affairs  brought  him  for  the  first 
time  in  contact. 

If  there  was  an  exception  to  such  an  impression 
it  was  with  Robert  Kimberly,  but  even  with  him 

56 


Robert  Kimberly 

MacBirney  maintained  easily  the  reputation  ac 
corded  to  Western  men  for  general  capacity  and 
a  certain  driving  ability  for  putting  things  through. 

He  was  described  as  self-made;  and  examined 
with  the  quiet  curiosity  of  those  less  fortunate 
Eastern  men  who  were  unwilling  or  unable  to 
ascribe  their  authorship  to  themselves,  he  made 
a  satisfactory  showing. 

In  the  Kimberly  coterie  of  men,  which  con 
sisted  in  truth  more  of  the  staff  associates  in  the 
Kimberly  activities  than  of  the  Kimberlys  them 
selves,  the  appearance  of  MacBirney  on  the  scene 
at  Second  Lake  was  a  matter  of  interest  to  every 
one  of  the  fledgling  magnates,  who,  under  the 
larger  wing  of  the  Kimberlys,  directed  the  com 
mercial  end  of  their  interests. 

McCrea,  known  as  Robert  Kimberly' s  right- 
hand  man;  Cready  Hamilton,  one  of  the  Kim 
berly  bankers,  and  brother  of  Doctor  Hamilton, 
Robert's  closest  friend;  Nelson,  the  Kimberly 
counsel — all  took  a  hand  in  going  over  MacBir 
ney,  so  to  say,  and  grading  him  up.  They  found 
for  one  thing  that  he  could  talk  without  saying 
anything;  which  in  conducting  negotiations  was 
an  excellent  trait.  And  if  not  always  a  successful 
story-teller,  he  was  a  shrewd  listener.  In  every 
thing  his  native  energy  gave  him  a  show  of  interest 
which,  even  when  factitious,  told  in  his  favor. 

57 


Robert  Kimberly 

Soon  after  the  call  on  Uncle  John,  Dolly  ar 
ranged  a  dinner  for  the  MacBirneys,  at  which 
Charles  Kimherly  and  his  wife  and  Robert  Kim 
berly  were  to  be  the  guests.  It  followed  a  second 
evening  spent  at  the  Nelsons',  whence  Robert 
Kimberly  had  come  home  with  the  De  Castros 
and  MacBirneys.  Alice  had  sung  for  them.  After 
accepting  for  the  De  Castro  dinner,  Robert  at  the 
last  moment  sent  excuses.  Dolly  masked  her  feel 
ings.  Imogene  and  Charles  complained  a  little, 
but  Arthur  De  Castro  was  so  good  a  host  that  he 
alone  would  have  made  a  dinner  go. 

MacBirney,  after  he  and  Alice  had  gone  to  their 
rooms  for  the  night,  spoke  of  Robert's  absence. 
"1  don't  quite  understand  that  man,"  he  mused. 
"What  do  you  make  of  him,  Alice  ?" 

Alice  was  braiding  her  hair.  She  turned  from 
her  table.  "I've  met  him  very  little,  you  know- 
when  we  called  at  his  house,  and  twice  at  the 
Nelsons'.  And  I  saw  very  little  of  him  last  night. 
He  was  with  that  drinking  set  most  of  the  evening." 

MacBirney  started.    "Don't  say  'that  drinking 


set.' 


"Really,  that  describes  them,  Walter.  I  don't 
see  that  they  excel  in  anything  else.  I  hate  drink 
ing  women." 

"When  you're  in  Rome,  do  as  the  Romans  do/ 
suggested  MacBirney,  curtly. 

58 J 


Robert  Kimberly 

Alice's   tone  hardened   a  trifle.     "Or  at  least 
let  the  Romans  do  as  they  please,  without  com 


ment/' 


"Exactly,"  snapped  her  husband.  "I  don't 
know  just  what  to  make  of  Kimberly,"  he  went 
on. 

"Charles,  or  the  brother?" 

"Robert,  Robert.  He's  the  one  they  all  play 
to  here."  MacBirney,  sitting  in  a  lounging-chair, 
emphasized  the  last  words,  as  he  could  do  when 
impatient,  and  shut  his  teeth  and  lips  as  he  did 
when  perplexed.  "I  wonder  why  he  didn't  come 
to-night?" 

Alice  had  no  explanation  to  offer.  "Charles," 
she  suggested,  tying  her  hair-ribbon,  "is  very 


nice." 


"Why,  yes — you  and  Charles  are  chummy  al 
ready.  I  wish  we  could  get  better  acquainted 
with  Robert,"  he  continued,  knitting  his  brows. 
"I  thought  you  were  a  little  short  with  him  last 
night,  Alice." 

"Short?  Oh,  Walter!  We  didn't  exchange  a 
dozen  words." 

" That's  just  the  way  it  struck  me." 

"  But  we  had  no  chance  to.  I  am  sure  I  didn't 
mean  to  be  short.  I  sang,  didn't  I  ?  And  more 
on  his  account,  from  what  Dolly  had  said  to  me, 
than  anybody  else's.  He  didn't  like  my  singing, 

59 


Robert  Kimberly 

but  I  couldn't  help  that.     He  didn't  say  a  single 
word." 

"Why,  he  did  say  something!'* 

"Just    some    stiff    remark    when    he    thanked 


me." 


Alice,  rising,  left  her  table.     MacBirney  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  see.  That's  what's  the  matter.  Well, 
you're  quite  mistaken,  my  dear."  Catching  Alice 
in  his  arms  as  she  passed,  in  a  way  he  did  when  he 
wished  to  seem  affectionate,  MacBirney  drew  his 
wife  to  him.  "He  did  like  it.  He  remarked  to 
me  just  as  he  said  good-night,  that  you  had  a  fine 


voice." 


'  That   does  not  sound  like  him — possibly  he 
was  ironical." 

"And  when  I  thanked  him,"  continued  Mac 
Birney,  "he  took  the  trouble  to  repeat:  'That 
song  was  beautifully  sung.'  Those  were  his  exact 
words." 

In  spite  of  painful  experiences  it  rarely  oc 
curred  to  Alice  that  her  husband  might  be  de 
ceiving  her,  nor  did  she  learn  till  long  afterward 
that  he  had  lied  to  her  that  night.  With  her  feel 
ings  in  some  degree  appeased  she  only  made  an 
incredulous  little  exclamation:  "He  didn't  ask 
me  to  sing  again,"  she  added  quietly. 

MacBirney  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "He  is 
peculiar." 

60 


Robert  Kimberly 

"  I  try,  Walter/'  she  went  on,  lifting  her  eyes  to 
his  with  an  effort,  "to  be  as  pleasant  as  I  can  to 
all  of  these  people,  for  your  sake." 

"I  know  it,  Alice."  He  kissed  her.  "I  know 
it.  Let  us  see  now  what  we  can  do  to  cultivate 
Robert  Kimberly.  He  is  the  third  rail  in  this  com 
bination,  and  he  is  the  only  one  on  the  board 
of  directors  who  voted  finally  against  taking  us  in." 

"Is  that  true?" 

'"So  Doane  told  Lambert,  in  confidence,  and 
Lambert  told  me." 

"Oh,  Lambert!  That  detestable  fellow.  I 
wouldn't  believe  anything  he  said  anyway." 

MacBirney  bared  his  teeth  pleasantly.  "  Pshaw! 
You  hate  him  because  he  makes  fun  of  your 
Church." 

"No.  I  despise  him,  because  he  is  a  Catholic 
and  ridicules  his  own." 

Her  husband  knew  controversy  was  not  the  wTay 
to  get  a  favor.  "I  guess  you're  right  about  that, 
Allie.  Anyway,  try  being  pleasant  to  Kimberly. 
The  way  you  know  how  to  be,  Allie — the  way  you 
caught  me,  eh  ?"  He  drew  her  to  him  with  breezy 
enthusiasm.  Alice  showed  some  distress. 

"Don't  say  such  things,  please." 

"That  was  only  a  joke." 

"I  hate  such  jokes." 

"Very  well,  I  mean,  just  be  natural,"  persisted 
61 


Robert  Kimberly 

MacBirney  amiably,  "you  are  fascinating  enough 
any  old  way." 

Alice  manifested  little  spirit.  "Does  it  make 
so  much  difference  to  you,  Walter,  whether  we 
pay  attention  to  him?" 

MacBirney  raised  his  eyebrows  with  a  laughing 
start.  "What  an  innocent  you  are/'  he  cried  in 
a  subdued  tone.  And  his  ways  of  speech,  if  ever 
attractive,  were  now  too  familiar.  "Difference!" 
he  exclaimed  cheerily.  "When  they  buy  he  will 
name  the  figure." 

"  But  I  thought  they  had  decided  to  buy." 

"The  executive  committee  has  authorized  the 
purchase.  But  he,  as  president,  has  been  given 
the  power  to  fix  the  price.  Don't  you  see  ?  We 
can  afford  to  smile  a  little,  eh  ? " 

"  It  would  kill  me  to  smile  if  I  had  to  do  it  for 
money." 

"Oh,  you  are  a  baby  in  arms,  Allie,"  exclaimed 
her  husband  impatiently,  "just  like  your  father! 
You'd  starve  to  death  if  it  weren't  for  me." 

"No  doubt." 

MacBirney  was  still  laughing  at  the  idea  when 
he  left  his  wife's  room,  and  entering  his  own, 
closed  the  door. 

Alice,  in  her  room,  lay  in  the  darkness  for  a 
long  time  with  open  eyes. 


62 


CHAPTER  VII 

test  of  Alice's  willingness  to  smile  came 
JL     within  a  brief  fortnight,  when  with  the  De 
Castros,  she  was  the  guest  of  Imogene  Kimberly 
at  The  Cliffs,  Imogene's  home. 

"This  is  all  most  informal/'  said  Imogene,  as 
she  went  downstairs  arm-in-arm  with  Alice;  "as 
you  see,  only  one-half  the  house  is  open." 

"The  open  half  is  so  lovely,"  returned  Alice, 
"that  I'm  glad  to  take  the  other  half  on  faith." 

"It  was  my  only  chance — this  week,  and  as 
Dolly  says,  I  'jumped  at  it'!  I  am  sorry  your 
husband  has  disappointed  us." 

"He  was  called  to  town  quite  unexpectedly." 
"But  Providence  has  provided  a  substitute. 
Robert  Kimberly  is  coming."  Alice  almost  caught 
her  breath.  "He  is  another  of  those  men,"  con 
tinued  Imogene,  "whom  you  never  can  get  when 
you  want  them.  Fortunately  he  telephoned  a  mo 
ment  ago  saying  he  must  see  Charles.  I  answered 
that  the  only  possible  way  to  see  him  was  to  come 
over  now,  for  he  is  going  fishing  and  leaves  at 
midnight.  The  guides  wired  this  morning  that 
the  ice  is  out.  And  when  the  ice  goes  out," 

63 


Robert  Kimberly 

Imogene  raised  her  hands,  "neither  fire  nor 
earthquake  can  stop  Charles.  Here  is  Robert 
now.  Oh,  and  he  has  Doctor  Hamilton  with 
him.  All  the  better.  If  we  can  get  both  we  shall 
have  no  lack  of  men." 

Robert  Kimberly  and  Doctor  Hamilton  were 
coming  down  the  hall.  "How  delightful!"  cried 
Imogene,  advancing,  "and  I  am  so  glad  you've 
come,  doctor." 

Kimberly  paused.  He  saw  Alice  lingering  be 
hind  her  hostess  and  the  De  Castros  with  Fritzie 
Venable  coming  downstairs. 

''You  have  a  dinner  on,"  he  said  to  Imogene. 

"Only  a  small  one." 

"But  you  didn't  tell  me " 

:f  Just  to  give  you  a  chance  to  show  your  indif 
ference  to  surprises,  Robert." 

She  introduced  Doctor  Hamilton  to  Alice. 
"  These  two  are  always  together,"  she  explained 
to  Alice,  lifting  her  fan  toward  the  doctor  and  her 
brother-in-law.  "But  any  hostess  is  fortunate  to 
capture  them  like  this,  just  the  right  moment." 

Hamilton,  greeting  Alice,  turned  to  Imogene: 
"What  is  this  about  your  husband's  going  to 
Labrador  to-morrow?" 

"He  is  going  to-night.  The  salmon  are  doing 
something  or  other." 

"Deserted  Gaspe,  has  he?" 
64 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Temporarily,"  said  Imogene,  pausing  to  give 
an  order  to  a  butler.  Robert  waited  a  moment 
for  her  attention.  "I  brought  the  doctor,"  he 
explained,  "because  I  couldn't  leave  him  to  dine 
alone.  And  now " 

"And  now,"  echoed  Imogene,  "you  see  how 
beautifully  it  turns  out.  The  Nelsons  declined, 
Mr.  MacBirney  disappoints  me,  Charles  goes 
fishing,  and  can't  get  home  to-night  in  time  to  dine. 
But  there  are  still  seven  of  us — what  could  be 
better  ?  Mrs.  De  Castro  will  claim  the  doctor. 
Arthur  won't  desert  me,  and,  Robert,  you  may  give 
an  arm  to  Fritzie  and  one  to  Mrs.  MacBirney." 

There  was  now  no  escape  from  a  smile,  and 
Alice  resolved  to  be  loyal  to  her  hostess.  The 
party  moved  into  the  drawing-room. 

Fritzie  Venable  tried  to  engage  Kimberly  in 
answering  her  questions  about  a  saddle-horse  that 
one  of  his  grooms  had  recommended.  Kimberly 
professed  to  know  nothing  about  it.  When  it 
became  apparent  that  he  really  did  know  nothing 
of  the  horse,  Fritzie  insisted  on  explaining. 

Her  spirited  talk,  whether  concerning  her  own 
troubles  or  those  of  other  people,  was  not  unin 
teresting.  Soon  she  talked  more  especially  to 
Alice.  Kimberly  listened  not  inattentively  but 
somewhat  perfunctorily,  and  the  manner,  noticea 
ble  at  their  second  meeting,  again  impressed  Alice. 

63 


Robert  Kimberly 

Whether  it  was  a  constraint  or  an  unpleasing 
reserve  was  not  clear;  and  it  might  have  been  the 
abstraction  of  a  busied  man,  one  of  that  type 
familiar  in  American  life  who  are  inherently  in 
teresting,  but  whose  business  affairs  never  wholly 
release  their  thought. 

Whatever  the  cause,  Fritzie  was  sufficiently 
interested  in  her  own  stones  to  ignore  it  and  in  a 
degree  to  overcome  the  effect  of  it.  She  was  sure 
of  her  ground  because  she  knew  her  distinguished 
connection  had  a  considerate  spot  in  his  heart  for 
her.  She  finally  attacked  him  directly,  and  at 
first  he  did  not  go  to  the  trouble  of  a  defence. 
When  she  at  length  accused  him,  rather  sharply, 
of  letting  business  swallow  him  up,  Kimberly, 
with  Alice  listening,  showed  a  trace  of  impa 
tience. 

"The  old  sugar  business!'*  Fritzie  exclaimed 
reproachfully,  "it  is  taking  the  spirituality  com 
pletely  out  of  the  Kimberly  family." 

Robert  looked  at  her  in  genuine  surprise  and 
burst  into  a  laugh.  "What's  that  ?"  he  demanded, 
bending  incredulously  forward. 

Fritzie  tossed  her  head.     "I  don't  care!" 

"Spirituality?"  echoed  Kimberly,  with  a  quiet 
malice.  His  laugh  annoyed  Fritzie,  but  she  stuck 
to  her  guns:  "Spirits,  then;  or  gayety,  or  life!" 
she  cried.  "I  don't  care  what  you  call  it.  Any- 

66 


Robert  Kimberly 

thing  besides  everlastingly  piling  up  money.  Oh, 
these  almighty  dollars!" 

"  You  tire  of  them  so  quickly,  is  it,  Fritzie  ?  Or 
is  it  that  they  don't  feel  on  familiar  terms  enough 
to  stay  long  with  you?"  he  asked,  while  Alice 
was  smiling  at  the  encounter. 

Fritzie  summoned  her  dignity  and  pointed  every 
word  with  a  nod.  "I  simply  don't  want  to  see 
all  of  my  friends — ossify!  Should  you  ?"  she  de 
manded,  turning  to  Alice  for  approval. 

"Certainly  not,"  responded  Alice. 

"Bone  black  is  very  useful  in  our  business," 
observed  Kimberly. 

Fritzie' s  eyes  snapped.  "Then  buy  it!  Don't 
attempt  to  supply  the  demand  out  of  your  own 
bones!" 

It  would  have  been  churlish  to  refuse  her  her 
laugh.  Kimberly  and  Alice  for  the  first  time 
laughed  together  and  found  it  pleasant. 

Fritzie,  following  up  her  advantage,  asked 
Doctor  Hamilton  whether  he  had  heard  Dora 
Morgan's  latest  joke.  "She  had  a  dispute," 
continued  Fritzie,  "with  George  Doane  last  night 
about  Unitarians  and  Universalists — 

"Heavens,  have  those  two  got  to  talking  re 
ligion?"  demanded  Kimberly,  wearily. 

"George  happened  to  say  to  Cready  Hamilton 
that  Unitarians  and  Universalists  believed  just 

67 


Robert  Kimberly 

about  the  same  doctrine.  When  Dora  insisted  it 
was  not  so,  George  told  her  she  couldn't  name  a 
difference.  'Why,  nonsense,  George/  said  Dora, 
'Unitarians  deny  the  divinity  of  Christ,  but  Uni- 
versalists  don't  believe  in  a  damned  thing.'  And 
the  funny  part  of  it  was,  George  got  furious  at 
her,"  concluded  Fritzie  wTith  merriment. 

"I  suppose  you,  too,  fish,"  ventured  Alice  to 
Kimberly  as  the  party  started  for  the  dining-room. 

"My  fishing  is  something  of  a  bluff,"  he  con 
fessed.  "That  is,  I  fish,  but  I  don't  get  anything. 
My  brother  really  does  get  the  fish,"  he  said  as 
he  seated  her.  "He  campaigns  for  them — one 
has  to  nowadays,  even  for  fish.  I  can't  scrape  up 
interest  enough  in  it  for  that.  I  whip  one  pool 
after  another  and  drag  myself  wearily  over  port 
ages  and  chase  about  in  boats,  and  my  guides 
fable  wisely  but  I  get  next  to  nothing." 

Alice  laughed.  Even  though  he  assumed  in 
competence  it  seemed  .assumed.  And  in  saying 
that  he  got  no  fish  one  felt  that  he  did  get 
them. 

1  Arthur  was  talking  of  Uncle  John's  nurse — 
whom  the  circle  had  nicknamed  "  Lazarus."  He 
referred  to  the  sacrifices  made  sometimes  by  men. 

"It  won't  do  to  say,"  De  Castro  maintained, 
"that  these  men  are  mere  clods,  that  they  have 
no  nerves,  no  sensitiveness.  The  first  one  you 

68 


Robert  Kimberly 

meet  may  be  such  a  one;    the  next,  educated  or 
of  gentle  blood." 

'Lazarus/  "  he  continued,  "is  by  no  means  a 
common  man.  He  is  a  gentleman,  the  product  of 
centuries  of  culture — this  is  evident  from  five 
minutes'  talk  with  him.  Yet  he  has  abandoned 
everything — family,  surroundings,  luxuries — for 
a  work  that  none  of  us  would  dream  of  under 
taking." 

"And  what  about  women,  my  dear?"  de 
manded  Dolly.  "I  don't  say,  take  a  class  of 
women — take  any  woman.  A  woman's  life  is 
nothing  but  sacrifice.  The  trouble  is  that  women 
bear  their  burdens  uncomplainingly.  That  is 
where  all  women  make  a  mistake.  My  life  has 
been  a  whole  series  of  sacrifices,  and  I  propose 
people  shall  know  it." 

"No  matter,  Dolly,"  suggested  Imogene,  "your 
wrongs  shall  be  righted  in  the  next  world." 

"I  should  just  like  the  chance  to  tell  my  story 
up  there,"  continued  Dolly,  fervently. 

Kimberly  turned  to  Alice:  "All  that  Dolly 
fears,"  said  he,  in  an  aside,  "is  that  heaven  will 
prove  a  disappointment.  But  to  change  the  sub 
ject  from  heaven  abruptly — you  are  from  the 
West,  Mrs.  MacBirney." 

"Do  you  find  the  change  so  abrupt?  and  must 
I  confess  again  to  the  West?" 

60 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Not  if  you  feel  it  incriminates  you." 

"  But  I  don't/'  protested  Alice  with  spirit. 

"  Has  your  home  always  been  there  ? " 

"Yes,  in  St.  Louis;  and  it  is  a  very  dear  old 
place.  Some  of  my  early  married  life  was  spent 
much  farther  West." 

"How  much  farther?" 

"So  much  that  I  can  hardly  make  anybody 
comprehend  it — Colorado." 

"How  so?" 

"They  ask  me  such  wild  questions  about  buffa- 
los  and  Indians.  I  have  found  one  woman  since 
coming  here  who  has  been  as  far  West  as  Chicago, 


once." 


"In  what  part  of  Colorado  were  you  ?" 

"South  of  Denver." 

"You  had  beautiful  surroundings." 

"Oh,  do  you  know  that  country?" 

"Not  nearly  as  well  as  I  should  like  to.  It  is 
beautiful." 

Alice  laughed  repentantly  as  she  answered: 
"More  beautiful  to  me  now,  Fm  afraid,  than  it 
was  then." 

"Any  town  is  quiet  for  a  city  girl,  of  course. 
Was  it  a  small  town  ?" 

"Quite  small.     And  odd  in  many  ways." 

"  I  see;  where  the  people  have  '  best  clothes ' " 

"Don't  make  fun." 

70 


Robert  Kimberly 

"And  wear  them  on  Sunday.  And  there  is 
usually  one  three-story  building  in  the  town — I 
was  marooned  over  Sunday  once  in  a  little  West 
ern  town,  with  an  uncle.  I  saw  a  sign  on  a  big 
building:  'Odd  Fellows'  Hall.'  Who  are  the 
Odd  Fellows,  uncle  ?'  I  asked.  He  was  a  crusty 
old  fellow:  'Optimists,  my  son,  optimists/  he 
growled,  'They  build  three-story  buildings  in 
two-story  towns.'  What  was  your  town,  by  the 
way?" 

"Piedmont." 

"Piedmont?"  Kimberly  paused  a  moment. 
"I  ought  to  know  something  of  that  town." 

Alice  looked  surprised.     "You?" 

"The  uncle  I  spoke  of  built  a  railroad  through 
there  to  the  Gulf.  Isn't  there  a  town  below 
Piedmont  named  Kimberly  ? " 

"To  be  sure  there  is.  How  stupid!  I  never 
thought  it  was  named  after  your  uncle." 

"No,  that  uncle  was  a  Morgan,",  interposed 
Imogene,  listening,  "the  town  was  named  after 
your  next  neighbor." 

"How  interesting!  And  how  could  you  make 
such  fun  of  me — having  me  tell  you  of  a  country 
you  knew  all  about!  And  a  whole  town  named 
after  you !" 

"That  is  a  modest  distinction,"  remarked  Kim 
berly.  "As  a  boy  I  was  out  there  with  an  engi- 


Robert  Kimberly 

neering  party  and  hunted  a  little.  My  uncle  gave 
me  the  town  as  a  Christmas  present." 

"A  town  for  a  Christmas  present!" 

"I  suspected  after  I  began  paying  taxes  on  my 
present  that  my  uncle  had  got  tired  of  it.  They 
used  to  sit  up  nights  out  there  to  figure  out  new 
taxes.  In  the  matter  of  devising  taxes  it  is  the 
most  industrious,  progressive,  tireless  community 
I  have  ever  known.  And  their  pleas  were  so 
ingenious;  they  made  you  feel  that  if  you  opposed 
them  you  were  an  enemy  to  mankind." 

'Then  they  beguiled  Robert  every  once  in  a 
while/'  interposed  Fritzie,  "into  a  town  hall  or 
public  library  or  a  park  or  electric  lighting  plant. 
Once  they  asked  him  for  a  drinking  fountain." 
Fritzie  laughed  immoderately  at  the  recollection. 
"He  put  in  the  fountain  and  afterward  learned 
there  was  no  water  within  fifteen  miles;  they 
then  urged  him  to  put  in  a  water-works  system  to 
get  water  to  it." 

"I  suggested  a  brewery  to  supply  the  fountain," 
said  Arthur,  looking  over,  "and  that  he  might 
work  out  even  by  selling  the  surplus  beer.  There 
were  difficulties,  of  course;  if  he  supplied  the 
fountain  with  beer,  nobody  would  buy  it  in  bottles. 
Then  it  was  proposed  to  sell  the  surplus  beer  to  the 
neighboring  towns.  But  with  the  fountain  play 
ing  in  Kimberly,  these  would  pretty  certainly  be 

72 


Robert  Kimberly 

depopulated.  Per  contra,  it  was  figured  that  this 
might  operate  to  raise  the  price  of  his  Kimberly 
lots.  But  while  we  were  working  the  thing  out 
for  him,  what  do  you  think  happened  ?" 

"I  haven't  an  idea,"  laughed  Alice. 

"The  town  voted  for  prohibition." 

"Fancy,"  murmured  Imogene,  "and  named 
Kimberly!" 

"And  what  became  of  the  fountain  ?" 

"Oh,  it  is  running;  he  put  in  the  water-works." 

"Generous  man!" 

" Generous ! "  echoed  Hamilton.  "  Don't  be  de 
ceived,  Mrs.  MacBirney.  You  should  see  what 
he  charges  them  for  water.  I  should  think  it 
would  be  on  his  conscience,  if  he  has  one.  He  is 
Jupiter  with  the  frogs.  Whatever  they  ask,  he 
gives  them.  But  when  they  get  it — how  they  do 
get  it!" 

"Don't  believe  Doctor  Hamilton,  Mrs.  MacBir 
ney,"  said  Robert  Kimberly.  "I  stand  better 
with  my  Western  friends  than  I  do  with  these 
cynical  Easterners.  And  if  my  town  will  only 
drink  up  the  maintenance  charges,  I  am  satis 
fied." 

"The  percentage  of  lime  in  the  water  he  sup 
plies  is  something  fierce,"  persisted  the  doctor. 
"It  is  enough  to  kill  off  the  population  every  ten 
years.  I  suggested  a  hospital." 

73 


Robert  Kimberly 

"But  didn't  Mr.  MacBirney  tell  me  they  have 
a  sugar  factory  there  ?"  asked  Alice. 

"They  have/'  said  De  Castro.  "One  of  Rob 
ert's  chemists  was  out  there  once  trying  to  analyze 
the  taxes.  Incidentally,  he  brought  back  some 
of  the  soil,  thinking  there  might  be  something  in 
it  to  account  for  the  tax  mania.  And  behold,  he 
found  it  to  be  fine  for  sugar  beets!  Irrigation 
ditches  and  a  factory  were  put  in.  You  should 
see  how  swell  they  are  out  there  now." 

"Robert  has  had  all  kinds  of  resolutions  from 
the  town,"  said  Fritzie. 

Kimberly  turned  to  Alice  to  supplement  the  re 
mark.  "Quite  true,  I  have  had  all  kinds — they 
are  strong  on  resolutions.  But  lately  these  have 
been  less  sulphurous." 

"Well,  isn't  it  odd?  My  father's  ranch  once 
extended  nearly  all  the  way  from  Piedmont  to 
the  very  town  you  are  speaking  of!"  exclaimed 
Alice. 

Kimberly  looked  at  her  with  interest.  "Was 
that  really  yours — the  big  ranch  north  of  Kimber- 
ly?" 

"  I  spent  almost  every  summer  there  until  I  was 
fifteen." 

"That  must  have  been  until  very  lately." 

Alice  returned  his  look  with  the  utmost  sim 
plicity.  "No,  indeed,  it  is  ten  years  ago." 

74 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly  threw  back  his  head  and  it  fell  for 
ward  a  little  on  his  chest.  "How  curious/'  he 
said  reflectively;  "I  knew  the  ranch  very  well." 

When  they  were  saying  good-night,  Imogene 
whispered  to  Alice:  "I  congratulate  you." 

Alice,  flushed  with  the  pleasure  of  the  evening, 
stood  in  her  wraps.  She  raised  her  brows  in 
pleased  surprise.  "Pray  what  for?" 

"Your  success.  The  evening,  you  know,  was 
in  your  honor;  and  you  were  decidedly  the  feature 
of  it." 

"I  really  didn't  suspect  it." 

"And  you  made  a  perfect  success  with  your 
unexpected  neighbor." 

"But  I  didn't  do  anything  at  all!" 

"It  isn't  every  woman  that  succeeds  without 
trying.  We  have  been  working  for  a  long  time 
to  pull  Robert  out  of  the  dumps."  Imogene 
laughed  softly.  "I  noticed  to-night  wrhile  you 
were  talking  to  him  that  he  tossed  back  his  head 
once  or  twice.  WTien  he  does  that,  he  is  waking 
up!  Here  is  your  car,  Dolly,"  she  added,  as  the 
De  Castros  came  into  the  vestibule. 

"Arthur  is  going  to  take  Doctor  Hamilton 
and  Fritzie  in  our  car,  Imogene,"  explained  Dolly. 
"Robert  has  asked  Mrs.  MacBirney  and  me  to 
drive  home  around  the  south  shore  with  him." 


75 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CHARLES  KIMBERLY  was  at  The  Towers 
\^  the  morning  after  the  return  from  his  fish 
ing  trip,  to  confer  with  Uncle  John  and  his  brother 
upon  the  negotiations  for  the  MacBirney  proper 
ties.  In  the  consideration  of  any  question  each  of 
the  three  Kimberlys  began  with  a  view-point  quite 
distinct  from  those  of  the  others. 

John  Kimberly,  even  in  old  age  and  stricken 
physically  to  an  appalling  degree,  swerved  not  a 
hair's-breadth  from  his  constant  philosophy  of 
life.  He  believed  first  and  last  in  force,  and  that 
feeble  remnant  of  vitality  which  disease,  or  what 
Dolly  would  have  termed,  "God's  vengeance,"  had 
left  him,  was  set  on  the  use  of  force. 

To  the  extent  that  fraud  is  an  element  of  force, 
he  employed  fraud;  but  it  was  only  because  fraud 
is  a  part  of  force,  and  whoever  sets  store  by  the 
one  will  not  always  shrink  from  the  other.  Any 
disposition  of  a  question  that  lacked  something 
of  this  complexion  seemed  to  Uncle  John  a  dan 
gerous  one. 

Charles  had  so  long  seen  bludgeoning  succeed 
that  it  had  become  an  accepted  part  of  his  busi- 

76 


Robert  Kimberly 

ness  philosophy.  But  in  the  day  he  now  faced, 
new  forces  had  arisen.  Public  sentiment  had  be 
come  a  factor  in  industrial  problems;  John  was 
blind  to  its  dangerous  power;  Charles  was  quite 
alive  to  it. 

New  views  of  the  problem  of  competition  had 
been  advanced,  and  in  advocating  them,  one  of  the 
Kimberlys,  Robert,  \vas  known  to  be  a  leader. 
This  school  sought  to  draw  the  sting  of  competi 
tive  loss  through  understandings,  cooperation,  and 
peace,  instead  of  suspicion,  random  effort,  and 
war. 

Charles  saw  this  tendency  with  satisfaction; 
Uncle  John  saw  it  sceptically.  But  Charles,  in 
fluenced  by  the  mastery  of  his  uncle,  became  unset 
tled  in  his  conclusions  and  stood  liable  to  veer  in 
his  judgment  to  one  side  or  the  other  of  the  ques 
tion,  as  he  might  be  swayed  by  apprehensions  con 
cerning  the  new  conditions  or  rested  in  confidence 
in  the  policies  of  the  old. 

Between  these  two  Kimberly  make-ups,  the 
one  great  in  attack,  the  other  in  compromise,  stood 
Robert.  "Say  what  you  please,"  Nelson  often 
repeated  to  McCrea,  "John  may  be  all  right, 
but  his  day  is  past.  Charlie  forgets  every  day 
more  than  the  opposition  know,  all  told.  But  I 
call  Robert  the  devil  of  the  family.  How  does 
he  know  when  to  be  bold  ?  Can  you  tell  ?  Flow 

77 


Robert  Kimberly 

does  he  know  when  to  be  prudent  ?  I  know  men, 
if  I  do  anything,  McCrea — but  I  never  can  meas 
ure  that  fellow/* 

Whatever  Robert  liked  at  least  enlisted  all  of  his 
activities  and  his  temperament  turned  these  into 
steam  cylinders.  John  Kimberly  influenced  Rob 
ert  in  no  way  at  all  and  after  some  years  of  pro 
fanity  and  rage  perceived  that  he  never  should. 
This  discovery  was  so  astounding  that  after  a  cer 
tain  great  family  crisis  he  silently  and  secretly 
handed  the  sceptre  of  family  infallibility  over  to 
his  nephew. 

Left  thus  to  himself,  Robert  continued  to  think 
for  himself.  The  same  faculties  that  had  served 
John  a  generation  earlier  now  served  Robert. 
John  had  forgotten  that  when  a  young  man  he  had 
never  let  anybody  think  for  him,  and  the  energy 
that  had  once  made  John,  also  made  his  younger 
nephew. 

The  shrewdness  that  had  once  overcome  com 
petition  by  war  now  united  with  competitors  to 
overcome  the  public  by  peace.  The  real  object 
of  industrial  endeavor  being  to  make  money,  a 
white-winged  and  benevolent  peace,  as  Nelson 
termed  it,  should  be  the  policy  of  all  interests  con 
cerned.  And  after  many  hard  words,  peace  with 
eighty  per  cent,  of  the  business  was  usually  achieved 
by  the  united  Kimberlys. 

73 


Robert  Kimberly 

It  had  cost  something  to  reach  this  situation; 
and  now  that  the  West  had  come  into  the  sugar 
world  it  became  a  Kimberly  problem  to  deter 
mine  how  the  new  interests  should  be  taken  care 
of. 

On  the  morning  that  Charles  called  he  found 
Uncle  John  in  his  chair.  They  sent  for  Robert, 
and  pending  his  appearance  opened  the  conference. 
At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Robert  had 
not  appeared.  Charles  looked  impatiently  at  his 
watch  and  despatched  a  second  servant  to  summon 
his  brother.  After  twenty-five  minutes  a  third  call 
was  sent. 

During  this  time,  in  the  sunniest  corner  of  the 
south  garden,  sheltered  by  a  high  stone  wall 
crested  with  English  ivy  and  overgrown  with 
climbing  roses,  sat  Robert  Kimberly  indolently 
watching  Brother  Francis  and  a  diminutive  Skye 
terrier  named  Sugar. 

Sugar  was  one  of  Kimberly' s  dogs,  but  Francis 
had  nursed  Sugar  through  an  attack  after  the 
kennel  keepers  had  given  him  up.  And  the  little 
dog  although  very  sick  and  frowsy  had  finally 
pulled  through.  The  intimacy  thus  established 
between  Sugar  and  Francis  was  never  afterward 
broken  but  by  death. 

In  this  sunny  corner,  Kimberly,  in  a  loose,  brown 
suit  of  tweed,  his  eyes  shaded  by  a  straw  hat,  sat 

79 


Robert  Kimberly 

in  a  hickory  chair  near  a  table.  It  was  the  cor 
ner  of  the  garden  in  which  Francis  when  off  duty 
could  oftenest  be  found.  A  sheltered  walk  led 
to  the  pergola  along  which  he  paced  for  exercise. 
Near  the  corner  of  the  wall  stood  an  oak.  And  a 
bench,  some  chairs  and  a  table  made  the  spot  at 
tractive.  Sugar  loved  the  bench,  and,  curled  up 
on  it,  usually  kept  watch  while  Francis  walked. 
On  cold  days  the  dog  lay  with  one  hair-curtained 
eye  on  the  coming  and  going  black  habit.  On 
warm  days,  cocking  one  ear  for  the  measured  step, 
he  dozed. 

Francis,  when  Sugar  had  got  quite  well,  ex 
pressed  himself  as  scandalized  that  the  poor  dog 
had  never  been  taught  anything.  He  possessed, 
his  new  master  declared,  neither  manners  nor 
accomplishments,  and  Francis  amid  other  duties 
had  undertaken,  in  his  own  words,  to  make  a 
man  of  the  little  fellow. 

Robert,  sitting  lazily  by,  instead  of  attending 
the  conference  call,  and  apparently  thinking  of 
nothing — though  no  one  could  divine  just  what 
might  be  going  on  under  his  black-banded  hat — 
was  watching  Francis  put  Sugar  through  some  of 
the  hard  paces  he  had  laid  out  for  him. 

"That  dog  is  naturally  stupid,  Francis — all  my 
dogs  are.  They  continually  cheat  me  on  dogs/' 
said  Kimberly  presently.  "You  don't  think  so? 

80 


Robert  Kimberly 

Very  well,  I  will  bet  you  this  bank-note,"  he  took 
one  from  his  waistcoat  as  he  spoke,  "that  you 
cannot  stop  him  this  time  on  'two'." 

"  I  have  no  money  to  bet  you,  Robert." 

"I  will  give  you  odds." 

"You  well  know  I  do  not  bet — is  it  not  so  r" 

"You  are  always  wanting  money;  now  I  will 
bet  you  the  bank-note  against  one  dollar,  Francis, 
that  you  cannot  stop  him  on  'two'." 

Francis  threw  an  eye  at  the  money  in  Kimberly' s 
hand.  "How  much  is  the  bank-note,  Robert?" 

"One  hundred  dollars." 

Francis  put  the  temptation  behind  him.  "You 
would  lose  your  money.  Sugar  knows  how  to 
stop.  In  any  case,  I  have  no  dollar." 

"I  will  bet  the  money  against  ten  cents." 

"I  have  not  even  ten  cents." 

"I  am  sorry,  Francis,  to  see  a  man  receiving  as 
large  a  salary  as  you  do,  waste  it  in  dissipation 
and  luxury.  However,  if  you  have  no  money,  I 
will  bet  against  your  habit." 

"If  I  should  lose  my  habit,  what  would  I  do  r" 

"You  could  wear  a  shawl,"  argued  Kimberly. 

"All  would  laugh  at  me.  In  any  case,  to  bet 
the  clothes  off  my  back  would  be  a  sin." 

"I  am  so  sure  I  am  right,  I  will  bet  the  money 
against  your  snuff-box,  Francis,"  persisted  Kim 
berly. 

Si 


Robert  Kimberly 

"My  snuff-box  I  cannot  bet,  since  Cardinal 
Santopaolo  gave  it  to  me." 

"  Francis,  think  of  what  you  could  do  for  your 
good-for-nothing  boys  with  one  hundred  dollars/' 

Francis  lifted  his  dark  eyes  and  shook  his 
head. 

"  I  will  bet  this,"  continued  the  tempter,  "against 
the  snuff  in  your  box,  that  you  can't  stop  him  this 


time  on  'two'.' 


"Sugar  will  stop  on  'two',"  declared  Francis, 
now  wrought  up. 

"Dare  you  bet?" 

"Enough!  I  bet!  It  is  the  snuff  against  the 
money.  May  my  poor  boys  win!" 

The  sunny  corner  became  active.  Kimberly 
straightened  up,  and  Francis  began  to  talk  to 
Sugar. 

"Now  tell  me  again,"  said  Kimberly,  "what  this 


verse  is." 


"I  say  to  him,"  explained  Francis,  "that  the 
good  soldier  goes  to  war " 

"I  understand;  then  you  say,  'One,  two, 
three!" 

"Exactly." 

"When  you  say  'three/  he  gets  the  lump  ?" 

"Yes." 

"But  the  first  time  you  say  the  verse  you  stop 
at  'two/  Then  you  repeat  the  verse.  If  the  dog 

82 


Robert  Kimberly 

takes  the  lump  before  you  reach  the  end  the  sec 
ond  time  and  say  'three' " 

"You  get  the  snuff!"  Francis  laid  the  box  on 
the  table  beside  Kimberly' s  bank-note. 

"Sugar!  Guarda!"  The  Skye  terrier  sat  up 
right  on  his  haunches  and  lifted  his  paws.  Francis 
gave  him  a  preliminary  admonition,  took  from  a 
mysterious  pocket  a  lump  of  sugar,  laid  it  on  the 
tip  of  the  dog's  nose,  and  holding  up  his  finger, 
began  in  a  slow  and  clearly  measured  tone: 

"Buon  soldato 
Va  alia  guerra, 
Mangia  male, 
Donne  in  terra. 
Uno,  due — 
Buon  soldato 
Va  -      " 

But  here  Sugar,  to  Francis's  horror,  snapped 
the  lump  into  his  mouth  and  swallowed  it. 

"You  lose,"  announced  Kimberly. 

Francis  threw  up  his  hands.     "My  poor  boys!" 

"This  is  the  time,  Francis,  your  poor  boys  don't 
get  my  money.  I  get  your  snuff." 

"Ah,  Sugar,  Sugar!  You  ruin  us."  The  little 
Skye  sitting  fast,  looked  innocently  and  affection 
ately  up  at  his  distressed  master.  "Why,"  de 
manded  the  crestfallen  Francis,  "could  you  not 
wait  for  the  lump  one  little  instant?" 

83 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Sugar  is  like  me,"  suggested  Kimberly  lazily, 
"he  wants  what  he  wants  when  he  wants  it." 

Alice,  this  morning,  had  been  deeply  in  his 
thoughts.  From  the  moment  he  woke  he  had  been 
toying  indolently  with  her  image — setting  it  up 
before  his  imagination  as  a  picture,  then  putting 
it  away,  then  tempting  his  lethargy  again  with  the 
pleasure  of  recalling  it. 

He  drew  a  cigar-case  from  his  pocket  and  care 
fully  emptied  the  snuff  out  of  the  box  into  it. 
"When  do  you  get  more  snuff,  Francis  ?" 

"On  Saturday." 

"This  is  Tuesday.  The  box  is  nearly  full.  It 
looks  like  good  stuff."  He  paused  between  each 
sentence.  "  But  you  would  bet." 

Francis  without  looking  busied  himself  with 
his  little  pupil. 

"I  have  emptied  the  box,"  announced  Kim 
berly.  There  was  no  answer.  "Do  you  want  any 
of  it  back?" 

Francis  waved  the  offer  aside. 

"A  few  pinches,  Francis  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"That  dog,"  continued  Kimberly,  rapping  the 
box  to  get  every  grain  out  and  perceiving  the  im 
possibility  of  harrying  Francis  in  any  other  way, 
"is  good  for  nothing  anyway.  He  wasn't  worth 
saving." 

84 


Robert  Kimberly 

"That  dog,"  returned  Francis  earnestly,  "is 
a  marvel  of  intelligence  and  patience.  He  has  so 
sweet  a  temper,  and  he  is  so  quick,  Robert,  to 
comprehend." 

"I  fail  to  see  it." 

"You  will  see  it.     The  fault  is  in  me." 

"I  don't  see  that  either." 

Francis  looked  at  Kimberly  appealingly  and 
pointed  benevolently  at  Sugar.  "I  ask  too  much 
of  that  little  dog.  He  will  learn.  'Patience, 
Francis/  he  says  to  me,  'patience;  I  will  learn/  J 

Summoning  his  philosophy  to  bridge  over  the 
disappointment,  Francis,  as  he  stood  up,  absent- 
mindedly  felt  in  his  deep  pocket  for  his  snuff-box. 
It  was  in  difficulties  such  as  this  that  recourse  to 
a  frugal  pinch  steadied  him.  He  recollected  in 
stantly  that  the  snuff  was  gone,  and  with  some 
haste  and  stepping  about,  he  drew  out  his  hand 
kerchief  instead — glancing  toward  Kimberly  as  he 
rubbed  his  nose  vigorously  to  see  if  his  slip  had 
been  detected. 

Needless  to  say  it  had  been — less  than  that 
would  not  have  escaped  Kimberly,  and  he  was 
already  enjoying  the  momentary  discomfiture. 
Sugar  at  that  moment  saw  a  squirrel  running 
down  the  walk  and  tore  after  him. 

Francis  with  simple  dignity  took  the  empty 
snuff-box  from  the  table  and  put  it  back  in  his 

35 


Robert  Kimberly 

pocket.  His  composure  was  restored  and  the  in 
cident  to  him  was  closed. 

Kimberly  understood  him  so  well  that  it  was  not 
hard  to  turn  the  talk  to  a  congenial  subject.  "  I 
drove  past  the  college  the  other  day.  I  see  your 
people  are  doing  some  building." 

Francis  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "A  laundry, 
Robert." 

"Not  a  big  building,  is  it?" 

"We  must  go  slow." 

"It  is  over  toward  where  you  said  the  academy 
ought  to  go." 

"My  poor  academy!  They  do  not  think  it 
will  ever  come." 

"You  have  more  buildings  now  than  you  have 
students.  What  do  you  want  with  more  build 
ings?" 

"No,  no.  We  have  three  hundred  students — 
three  hundred  now."  Francis  looked  at  his 
questioner  with  eyes  fiercely  eager.  "That  is 
the  college,  Robert.  The  academy  is  something 
else — for  what  I  told  you." 

"What  did  you  tell  me?"  Kimberly  lighted 
a  cigar  and  Francis  began  again  to  explain. 

"This  is  it:  Our  Sisters  in  the  city  take  now 
sixteen  hundred  boys  from  seven  to  eight  years 
old.  These  boys  they  pick  up  from  the  orphan 
courts,  from  the  streets,  from  the  poor  parents. 

86 


Robert  Kimberly 

When  these  boys  are  twelve  the  Sisters  cannot 
keep  them  longer,  they  must  let  them  go  and  take 
in  others. 

"Here  we  have  our  college  and  these  boys  are 
ready  for  it  when  they  are  sixteen.  But,  between 
are  four  fatal  years — from  twelve  to  sixteen.  If 
we  had  a  school  for  such  boys,  think  what  we 
could  do.  They  would  be  always  in  hand;  now. 
they  drift  away.  They  must  go  to  work  in  the 
city  filth  and  wickedness.  Ah,  they  need  the 
protection  we  could  give  them  in  those  terrible 
four  years,  Robert.  They  need  the  training  in 
those  years  to  make  of  them  mechanics  and  ar 
tisans — to  give  them  a  chance,  to  help  them  to  do 
more  than  drift  without  compass  or  rudder — do 
you  not  see  ? 

" Those  boys  that  are  bright,  that  we  find  ready 
to  go  further,  they  are  ready  at  sixteen  for  our 
college;  we  keep  and  educate  them.  But  the 
others — the  greater  part — at  sixteen  would  leave 
us,  but  trained  to  earn.  And  strengthened  dur 
ing  those  four  critical  years  against  evil.  Ah!" 

Francis  paused.  He  spoke  fast  and  with  an 
intensity  that  absorbed  him. 

Kimberly,  leaning  comfortably  back,  sat  with 
one  foot  resting  on  his  knee.  He  knocked  the 
ash  of  his  cigar  upon  the  heel  of  his  shoe  as 
he  listened — sometimes  hearing  Francis's  words, 

87 


Robert  Kimberly 

sometimes  not.  He  had  heard  all  of  them  before 
at  one  time  or  another;  the  plea  was  not  new  to 
him,  but  he  liked  the  fervor  of  it. 

"Ah!  It  is  not  for  myself  that  I  beg."  Brother 
Francis's  hands  fell  resignedly  on  his  knees.  "It 
is  for  those  poor  boys,  to  keep  them,  Robert,  from 
going  to  hell — from  hell  in  this  world  and  in  the 
next.  To  think  of  it  makes  me  always  sorrowful 
— it  makes  a  beggar  of  me — a  willing  beggar/' 

Kimberly  moved  his  cigar  between  his  lips. 

"But  where  shall  I  get  so  much  money?"  ex 
claimed  Francis,  helplessly.  "It  will  take  a  mill 
ion  dollars  to  do  what  we  ought  to  do.  You  are 
a  great  man,  Robert;  tell  me,  how  shall  I  find  it  ?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  to  find  it;  I  can  tell  you 
how  to  make  it." 

"How?" 

"Go  into  the  sugar  business." 

"Then  I  must  leave  God's  business." 

"Francis,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  I  think  for  a 
clever  man  you  are  in  some  respects  a  great  fool. 
I  am  not  joking.  What  I  have  often  said  about 
your  going  into  the  sugar  business,  I  repeat.  You 
would  be  worth  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year  to  me, 
and  I  will  pay  you  that  much  any  day." 

Francis  looked  at  Kimberly  as  if  he  were  a  mad 
man,  but  contented  himself  with  moving  his  head 
slowly  from  side  to  side  in  protest.  "I  cannot 

88 


Robert  Kimberly 

leave  God's  business,  Robert.  I  must  work  for 
him  and  pray  to  him  for  the  money.  Sometime 
it  will  come/' 

"Then  tell  Uncle  John  to  raise  your  wages," 
suggested  Kimberly,  relapsing  into  indifference. 

"  Robert,  will  you  not  sometime  give  me  a  letter 
to  introduce  me  to  the  great  banker  who  comes 
here,  Hamilton  ?" 

"He  will  not  give  you  anything." 

"He  has  so  much  money;  how  can  he  possibly 
need  it  all?" 

"  You  forget,  Francis,  that  nobody  needs  money 
so  much  as  those  that  have  it." 

"Ah!" 

"Hamilton  may  have  no  more  money  than  I 
have,  and  you  don't  ask  me  for  a  million  dollars." 

"It  is  not  necessary  to  ask  you.  You  know  I 
need  it.  If  you  could  give  it  to  me,  you  would." 

"If  I  gave  you  a  million  dollars  how  should  I 
ever  get  it  back  ? " 

Francis  spoke  with  all  seriousness.  "God  will 
pay  you  back." 

''  Yes,  but  when  ?  That  is  a  good  deal  of  money 
to  lend  to  God." 

"It  is  a  good  deal." 

"When  do  I  get  it  back,  and  how  ?" 

"He  will  surely  pay  you,  Robert;  God  pays 
over  there." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"That  won't  do — over  there.    It  isn't  honest." 

Francis  started.     "Not  honest?" 

"You  are  offering  deferred  dividends,  Francis. 
What  would  my  stockholders  say  if  I  tried  that 
kind  of  business  ?  Gad,  they  would  drag  me  into 


court." 


"Ah,  yes!  But,  Robert;  you  pay  for  to-day: 
he  pays  for  eternity." 

Kimberly  smoked  a  moment.  "In  a  proposition 
of  that  kind,  Francis,  it  seems  to  me  the  question 
of  guarantees  is  exceedingly  important.  You  good 
men  are  safe  enough;  but  where  would  the  bad 
men  come  in  on  your  eternal  dividends  ?" 

"You  are  not  with  the  bad  men,  Robert.  Your 
heart  is  not  bad.  You  are,  perhaps,  cruel  -  " 


"But  generous.  Sometime  God  will  give  you 
a  chance." 

"Y'ou  mean,  sometime  I  will  give  God  a  chance." 

"No,  Robert,  what  I  say  I  mean  —  sometime, 
God  will  give  you  a  chance." 

Charles  Kimberly's  impatient  voice  was  heard 
from  the  pergola. 

"Robert!  We've  been  waiting  thirty  minutes," 
he  stormed. 

"I  am  just  coming." 


90 


CHAPTER  IX 

THAT  afternoon  MacBirney  played  golf  with 
Charles  Kimberly.  Toward  five  o'clock,, 
Alice  in  one  of  the  De  Castro  cars  drove  around  to 
The  Hickories  after  him.  When  he  came  in,  she 
was  sitting  on  the  porch  with  a  group  of  women, 
among  them  Fritzie  Venable  and  Lottie  Nelson. 

"I  must  be  very  displeasing  to  Mrs  Nelson/' 
Alice  said  to  her  husband  as  they  drove  away. 
"It  upsets  me  completely  to  meet  that  woman." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  her?"  asked 
MacBirney,  in  a  tone  which  professing  friendly 
surprise  really  implied  that  the  grievance  might 
after  all  be  one  of  imagination. 

"I  haven't  an  idea/'  declared  Alice  a  little  re 
sentfully.  "I  am  not  conscious  of  having  done  a 
thing  to  offend  her." 

"You  are  oversensitive." 

"  But,  Walter,  I  can  tell  when  people  mean  to  be 
rude." 

"WThat  did  Mrs.  Nelson  do  that  was  rude?" 
asked  her  husband  in  his  customary  vein  of 
scepticism. 


Robert  Kimberly 

"She  never  does  anything  beyond  ignoring 
me/'  returned  Alice.  "It  must  be,  I  think,  that 
she  and  I  instinctively  detest  each  other.  They 
were  talking  about  a  dinner  and  musicale  Thurs 
day  night  that  Mr.  Robert  Kimberly  is  giving  at 
The  Towers.  Miss  Venable  said  she  supposed 
we  were  going,  and  I  had  to  say  I  really  didn't 
know.  We  haven't  been  asked,  have  we?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of." 

"Mrs.  Nelson  looked  at  me  when  Fritzie  spoke; 
I  think  it  is  the  first  time  that  she  ever  has  looked 
at  me,  except  when  she  had  to  say  '  good-morn 
ing'  or  'good-evening.'  I  was  confused  a  little 
when  I  answered,  I  suppose;  at  any  rate,  she  en 
joyed  it.  Mr.  Kimberly  would  not  leave  us  out, 
would  he?" 

"I  don't  think  so.  He  was  playing  golf  this 
afternoon  with  Cready  Hamilton,  and  he  stopped 
to  offer  me  his  yacht  for  the  week  of  the  cup  races." 

"Why,  how  delightful!  How  came  he  ever  to 
do  that?" 

"And  I  think  he  has  made  up  his  mind  what  he 
is  going  to  do  about  placing  me  on  the  board," 
continued  MacBirney,  resuming  his  hard,  thin 
manner  and  his  eager  tone  of  business.  "I  wish 
I  knew  just  what  is  coming." 

Alice  had  scarcely  reached  her  room  when  she 
found  the  dinner  invitation.  She  felt  a  little  thrill 

92 


Robert  Kimberly 

of  triumph  as  she  read  it.  Her  maid  explained 
that  the  note  had  been  laid  in  the  morning  with 
Mrs.  De  Castro's  letters. 

Late  in  the  evening  Kimberly  came  over  with 
his  sister-in-law,  Imogene.  The  De  Castros  were 
at  the  seashore  overnight  and  the  visitors'  cards 
were  sent  up  to  the  MacBirneys.  It  was  warm 
and  the  party  sat  on  the  south  veranda.  Kim 
berly  talked  with  Alice  and  she  told  him  they 
hoped  to  be  present  at  his  dinner. 

uYou  are  sure  to  be,  aren't  you?"  he  asked. 
"The  evening  is  given  for  you.3' 

"For  us?" 

"No,  not  for  'us/  but  for  you/'  he  said  dis.- 
tinctly.  "Mr.  MacBirney  has  said  he  is  fond 
of  the  water — you  like  music;  and  I  am  trying 
something  for  each  of  you.  I  should  have  asked 
you  about  your  engagements  before  the  cards 
went  out.  If  there  is  any  conflict  the  date  can 
easily  be  recalled/' 

"Oh,  no.     That  would  be  a  pity." 

"Not  at  all.  I  change  my  arrangements  when 
necessary  every  ten  minutes." 

"But  there  isn't  any  conflict,  and  I  shall  be  de 
lighted  to  come.  Pray,  how  do  you  know  I  like 
music  ? " 

"I  heard  you  say  so  once  to  Arthur  De  Castro. 
Tell  me  what  you  are  amused  about?" 

93 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Have  I  betrayed  any  amusement?" 

"For  just  about  the  hundredth  part  of  a  second, 
in  your  eyes." 

They  were  looking  at  each  other  and  his  gaze 
though  within  restraint  was  undeniably  alive. 
Alice  knew  not  whether  she  could  quite  ignore  it 
or  whether  her  eyes  would  drop  in  an  annoying 
admission  of  self-consciousness.  She  avoided  the 
latter  by  confessing.  "I  am  sure  I  don't  know  at 
all  what  you  are  talking  about " 

"I  am  sure  you  do,  but  you  are  privileged  not 
to  tell  if  you  don't  wTant  to." 

"Then — our  dinner  card  was  mislaid  and  until 
to-night  we  didn't  know  whether " 

"There  was  going  to  be  any  dinner." 

"Oh,  I  knew  that.  I  was  at  the  Casino  this 
afternoon " 

"I  saw  you." 

"And  when  I  was  asked  whether  I  was  going 
to  the  dinner  at  The  Towers  I  couldn't,  of  course, 
say." 

"Who  asked  you,  Mrs.  Nelson  ?" 

"No,  indeed.  What  made  you  think  it  was 
she?" 

"Because  she  asked  me  if  you  were  to  be  there. 
When  I  said  you  were,  she  laughed  in  such  a  way 
I  grew  suspicious.  I  thought,  perhaps,  for  some 
reason  you  could  not  come,  and  now  /  am  con- 

94 


Robert  Kimberly 

fessing — I  ran  over  tonight  expressly  to  find 
out." 

"How  ridiculous!" 

"Rather  ridiculous  of  me  not  to  know  before 
hand." 

"I  don't  mean  that — just  queer  little  compli 
cations." 

"A  mislaid  dinner-card  might  be  answerable 
for  more  than  that." 

"It  was  Miss  Venable  who  asked,  quite  inno 
cently.  And  had  I  known  all  I  know  now,  I  could 
have  taken  a  chance,  perhaps,  and  said  yes." 

"You  would  have  been  taking  no  chance  where 
my  hospitality  is  concerned." 

" Thank  you,  Mr.  Kimberly,  for  my  husband 
and  myself." 

"And  you  might  have  added  in  this  instance 
that  if  you  did  not  go  there  would  be  no  dinner." 

Alice  concealed  an  embarrassment  under  a  little 
laugh.  "My  husband  told  me  of  your  kindness  in 
placing  your  yacht  at  our  disposal  for  the  races." 

"At  his  disposal." 

"Oh,  wasn't  I  included  in  that?" 

"Certainly,  if  you  would  like  to  be.  But  tastes 
differ,  and  you  and  Mr.MacBirney  being  two " 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Kimberly;    my  husband  and  I 


are  one." 


— and  possibly  of  different  tastes,"  continued 
95 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly,  "I  thought  only  of  him.  I  hope  it 
wasn't  ungracious,  but  some  women,  you  know, 
hate  the  water.  And  I  had  no  means  of  knowing 

o 

whether  you  liked  it.     If  you  do " 

"And  you  are  not  going  to  the  races,  yourself?" 
"If  you  do,  I  shall  know  better  the  next  time 
how  to  arrange." 

"And  you  are  not  going  to  the  races  ?" 
"Probably  not.     Do  you  like  the  water?" 
"To  be  quite  frank,  I  don't  know." 
"How  so?" 

"I  like  the  ocean  immensely,  but  I  don't  know 
how  good  a  sailor  I  should  be  on  a  yacht." 

Imogene  was  ready  to  go  home.  Kimberly 
rose.  "I  understand,"  he  said,  in  the  frank  and 
reassuring  manner  that  was  convincing  because 
quite  natural.  "We  will  try  you  some  time,  up 
the  coast,"  he  suggested,  extending  his  hand. 
"Good-night,  Mrs.  MacBirney." 

"I  believe  Kimberly  is  coming  to  our  side," 
declared  MacBirney  after  he  had  gone  upstairs 
with  Alice. 

Annie  had  been  dismissed  and  Alice  was  braid 
ing  her  hair.  "I  hope  so;  I  begin  to  feel  like  a 
conspirator." 

MacBirney  was  in  high  spirits.  "You  don't 
look  like  one.  You  look  just  now  like  Marguer 
ite."  He  put  his  hands  around  her  shoulders, 

96 


Robert  Kimberly 

and  bending  over  her  chair,  kissed  her.  The 
caress  left  her  cold. 

"Poor  Marguerite,"  she  said  softly. 

"When  is  the  dinner  to  be  ?" 

"A  week  from  Thursday.  Mr.  Kimberly  says 
the  yacht  is  for  you,  but  the  dinner  is  for  me," 
continued  Alice  as  she  lifted  her  eyes  toward  her 
husband. 

"Good  for  you." 

"He  is  the  oddest  combination,"  she  mused 
with  a  smile,  and  lingering  for  an  instant  on 
the  adjective.  "Blunt,  and  seemingly  kind- 
hearted " 

"Not  kind-hearted,"  MacBirney  echoed,  in 
credulously.  "Why,  even  Nelson,  and  he's  sup 
posed  to  think  the  world  and  all  of  him,  calls  him 
as  cold  as  the  grave  when  he  wants  anything." 

Alice  stuck  to  her  verdict.  "I  can't  help  what 
Nelson  says;  and  I  don't  pretend  to  know  how 
Mr.  Kimberly  would  act  when  he  wants  anything. 
A  kind-hearted  man  is  kind  to  those  he  likes,  and 
a  cold-blooded  man  is  just  the  same  to  those  he 
likes  and  those  he  doesn't  like.  There  is  always 
something  that  stands  between  a  cold-blooded 
man  and  real  consideration  for  those  he  likes — 
and  that  something  is  himself." 

Alice  was  quite  willing  her  husband  should  ap 
ply  her  words  as  he  pleased.  She  thought  he  had 

97 


Robert  Kimberly 

given  her  ample  reason  for  her  reflection  on  the 
subject. 

But  MacBirney  was  too  self-satisfied  to  perceive 
what  her  words  meant  and  too  pleased  with  the 
situation  to  argue.  "Whatever  he  is/'  he  re 
sponded,  "he  is  the  wheel-horse  in  this  combina 
tion — everybody  agrees  on  that — and  the  friend 
ship  of  these  people  is  an  asset  the  world  over.  If 
we  can  get  it  and  keep  it,  we  are  the  gainers." 

"Whatever  we  do,"  returned  Alice,  "don't  let 
us  trade  on  it.  I  shrink  from  the  very  thought  of 
being  a  gainer  by  his  or  any  other  friendship.  If 
we  are  to  be  friends,  do  let  us  be  so  through  mutual 
likes  and  interests.  Mr.  Kimberly  would  know 
instantly  if  we  designed  it  in  any  other  way,  I  am 
sure.  I  never  saw  such  penetrating  eyes.  Really, 
he  takes  thoughts  right  out  of  my  head." 

MacBirney  laughed  in  a  hard  way.  "He  might 
take  them  out  of  a  woman's  head.  I  don't  think 
he  would  take  many  out  of  a  man's." 

"He  wouldn't  need  to,  dear.  A  man's  thought's, 
you  know,  are  clearly  written  on  the  end  of  his 
nose.  I  wish  I  knew  what  to  wear  to  Mr.  Kim- 
berly's  dinner." 


98 


CHAPTER  X 

ONE  morning  shortly  after  the  MacBirneys 
had  been  entertained  at  The  Towers  John 
Kimberly  was  wheeled  into  his  library  where 
Charles  and  Robert  were  waiting  for  him.  Charles 
leaned  against  the  mantel  and  his  brother  stood  at 
a  window  looking  across  the  lake  toward  Cedar 
Point.  As  Francis  left  the  room  Uncle  John's 
eyes  followed  him.  Presently  they  wandered  back 
with  cheerful  suspicion  toward  his  nephews,  and 
he  laid  his  good  arm  on  the  table  as  they  took 
chairs  near  him. 

"Well?"  he  said  lifting  his  eyebrows  and  look 
ing  blandly  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Well?"  echoed  Charles  good-naturedly,  look 
ing  from  Uncle  John  to  Robert. 

"Well  ?"  repeated  Robert  with  mildly  assumed 
idiocy,  looking  from  Charles  back  again  to  Uncle 
John. 

But  Uncle  John  was  not  to  be  committed  by 
any  resort  to  his  own  tactics,  and  he  came  back  at 
Charles  on  the  flank.  "Get  any  fish  ?"  he  asked, 
as  if  assured  that  Charles  would  make  an  effort  to 
deceive  him  in  answering. 

99 


Robert  Kimberly 

"We  sat  around  for  a  while  without  doing  a 
thing,  Uncle  John.  Then  they  began  to  strike 
and  I  had  eight  days  of  the  best  sport  I  ever  saw 
on  the  river." 

Uncle  John  buried  his  disappointment  under  a 
smile.  "Good  fishing,  eh  ?" 

"Excellent." 

There  was  evidently  no  opening  on  this  subject, 
and  Uncle  John  tried  another  tender  spot.  "Yacht 
go  any  better  ?" 

"McAdams  has  done  wonders  with  it,  Uncle 
John.  She  never  steamed  so  well  since  she  wTas 
launched." 

"Cost  a  pretty  penny,  eh,  Charlie?" 

"That  is  what  pretty  pennies  are  for,  isn't  it  ?" 

Unable  to  disturb  his  nephew's  peace  of  mind, 
Uncle  John  launched  straight  into  business. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  those  fellows  ?" 

"You  mean  the  MacBirney  syndicate  ?  Robert 
tells  me  he  has  concluded  to  be  liberal  with  them." 

"He  is  giving  too  much,  Charlie." 

"He  knowrs  better  what  the  stuff  is  worth  than 
we  do." 

Uncle  John  smiled  sceptically.  "He  will  give 
them  more  than  they  are  worth,  I  am  afraid." 

Robert  said  nothing. 

"Perhaps  there  is  a  reason  for  that,"  suggested 
Charles. 

100 


Robert  Kimberly 

They  waited  for  Robert  to  speak.  He  shifted 
in  his  chair  presently  and  spoke  with  some  de 
cision.  His  intonation  might  have  been  un 
pleasant  but  that  the  depth  and  fulness  of  his 
voice  redeemed  it.  The  best  note  in  his  utterance 
was  its  open  frankness. 

"Uncle  John  understands  this  matter  just  as 
well  as  I  do,"  he  began,  somew^hat  in  protest. 

"We  have  been  over  the  ground  often.  These 
people  have  been  an  annoyance  to  us;  this  is  un 
deniable.  McCrea  has  complained  of  them  for 
two  years.  Through  a  shift  in  the  cards — this 
money  squeeze — we  have  them  to-day  in  our 
hands " 

Uncle  John's  eyes  shone  and  he  clasped  the 
fingers  of  one  hand  tightly  in  the  other.  "That  is 
what  I  say;  trim  them!"  he  whispered  eagerly. 

Robert  went  on,  unmoved:  "Let  us  look  at 
that,  too.  He  wants  me  to  trim  them.  I  have 
steadily  opposed  buying  them  at  all.  But  the  rest 
of  you  have  overruled  me.  Very  good.  They 
know  now  that  they  are  in  our  power.  They  are, 
one  and  all,  bushwhackers  and  guerillas.  To 
my  mind  there  isn't  a  trustworthy  man  in  the 
crowd — not  even  MacBirney. 

"They  have  made  selling  agreements  with 
McCrea  again  and  again  and  left  him  to  hold  the 
sack.  We  can't  do  business  in  that  way.  When 

101 


Robert  Kimberly 

we  give  our  word  it  must  be  good.  They  give 
their  word  to  break  it.  Whenever  we  make  a 
selling  agreement  with  such  people  we  get  beaten, 
invariably.  They  have  cut  into  us  on  the  Mis 
souri  River,  at  St.  Paul,  even  at  Chicago — from 
their  Kansas  plants.  They  make  poor  sugar,  but 
it  sells,  and  even  when  it  won't  sell,  it  demoralizes 
the  trade.  Now  they  are  on  their  knees.  They 
want  us  to  buy  to  save  what  they've  got  invested. 
At  a  receiver's  sale  they  would  get  nothing.  But 
on  the  other  hand  Lambert  might  get  the  plants. 
If  we  tried  to  bid  them  in  there  would  be  a  howl 
from  the  Legislature,  perhaps." 

Uncle  John  was  growing  moody,  for  the  prey 
was  slipping  through  his  fingers.  "It  might  be 
better  to  stand  pat,"  he  muttered. 

Robert  paid  no  attention.  "What  I  propose, 
and  God  knows  I  have  explained  it  before,  is  this: 
These  people  can  be  trimmed,  or  they  can  be  satis 
fied.  I  say  give  them  eleven  millions — six  millions 
cash — three  millions  preferred  and  two  millions  in 
our  common  for  fifty  per  cent  of  their  stock  in 
stead  of  sixteen  millions  for  all  of  their  stock." 

Uncle  John  looked  horror  stricken.  "It  is  noth 
ing  to  us,"  exclaimed  Robert,  impatiently.  "I 
can  make  the  whole  capital  back  in  twelve  months 
with  McCrea  to  help  MacBirney  reorganize  and 
run  the  plants.  It  is  a  fortune  for  them,  and  we 

IO2 


Robert  Kimberly 

keep  MacBirney  and  the  rest  of  them,  for  ten 
years  at  least,  from  scheming  to  start  new  pbnts. 
Nelson  says  there  are  legal  difficulties  about  buy 
ing  more  than  half  their  stock.  But  the  voting 
control  of  all  of  it  can  be  safely  trusteed/' 

Uncle  John  could  barely  articulate:  "Too 
much,  it  is  too  much." 

"Bosh.  This  is  a  case  where  generosity  is 
'plainly  indicated/  as  Hamilton  says." 

"Too  much." 

"Robert  is  right,"  asserted  Charles  curtly. 

Uncle  John  threw  his  hand  up  as  if  to  say:  "  If 
you  are  resolved  to  ruin  us,  go  on!" 

"You  will  be  surprised  at  the  success  of  it," 
concluded  Robert.  "MacBirney  wants  to  come 
here  to  live,  though  Chicago  would  be  the  better 
place  for  him.  Let  him  be  responsible  for  the 
Western  territory.  With  such  an  arrangement 
we  ought  to  have  peace  out  there  for  ten  years. 
If  we  can,  it  means  just  one  hundred  millions 
more  in  our  pockets  than  we  can  make  in  the 
face  of  this  continual  price  cutting." 

Charles  rose.     "Then  it  is  settled." 

Uncle  John  ventured  a  last  appeal.  "Make 
the  cash  five  and  a  half  millions." 

"Very  good,"  assented  Robert,  who  to  meet 
precisely  this  objection  had  raised  the  figure  well 
above  what  he  intended  to  pay.  "As  you  like, 

103 


Robert  Kimberly 

Uncle  John,"  he  said  graciously.    "Charles,  make 
the  cash  five  and  a  half  millions." 

And  Uncle  John  went  back  to  his  loneliness, 
treasuring  in  his  heart  the  half  million  he  had 
saved,  and  encouraged  by  his  frail  triumph  in 
the  conference  over  his  never-quite-wholly-under 
stood  nephew. 

At  a  luncheon  next  day,  the  decision  was  laid 
by  Charles  and  Robert  before  the  Kimberly  part 
ners,  by  whom  it  was  discussed  and  approved. 

In  the  evening  Charles,  with  Robert  listening, 
laid  the  proposal  before  MacBirney,  who  had 
been  sent  for  and  whose  astonishment  at  the  un 
expected  liberality  overwhelmed  him. 

He  was  promptly  whirled  away  from  The 
Towers  in  a  De  Castro  car.  And  from  a  simple 
after-dinner  conference,  in  which  he  had  sat  down 
at  ten  o'clock  a  promoter,  he  had  risen  at  mid 
night  with  his  brain  reeling,  a  millionaire. 

Alice  excused  herself  when  her  husband  ap 
peared  at  Black  Rock,  and  followed  him  upstairs. 
She  saw  how  he  was  wrought  up.  In  their  room, 
with  eyes  burning  with  the  fires  of  success,  he  told 
her  of  the  stupendous  change  in  their  fortunes. 
With  an  affection  that  surprised  and  moved  Alice, 
who  had  long  believed  that  never  again  could 
anything  from  him  move  her,  he  caught  her 
closely  in  his  arms. 

104 


Robert  Kimberly 

Tears  filled  her  eyes.     He  wiped   them  away 
and  forced  a  laugh.  "Too  good  to  be  true,  dearie, 


isn't  it?'1 


She  faltered  an  instant.  "If  it  will  only  bring  us 
happiness,  Walter." 

"Alice,  I'm  afraid  I  have  been  harsh,  at  times." 
Her  memory  swept  over  bitter  months  and  wasted 
years,  but  her  heart  was  touched.  "It  is  all  be 
cause  I  worry  too  much  over  business.  There 
will  be  no  more  worries  now — they  are  past  and 
gone.  And  I  want  you  to  forget  everything, 
Allie."  He  embraced  her  fervently.  "I  have 
had  a  good  deal  of  anxiety  first  and  last.  It  is 
over  now.  Great  God!  This  is  so  easy  here. 
Everything  is  so  easy  for  these  people." 

The  telephone  bell  tinkled.  Through  a  mist  of 
tears  Alice  felt  her  husband's  kiss.  She  rose  to  an 
swer  the  bell.  Dolly  was  calling  from  downstairs. 
"Come  down  both  of  you,"  she  said.  "Charles 
and  Imogene  are  here  with  Fritzie  and  Robert." 

With  Charles  and  Imogene  had  come  a  famous 
doctor  from  the  city,  Hamilton's  friend,  Doctor 
Bryson.  Alice  protested  she  could  not  come 
down.  Dolly  told  her  she  "simply  must."  The 
controversy  upset  Alice  but  she  had  at  last  to  give 
way.  She  bathed  her  face  in  cold  water  and  her 
husband  deceived  her  with  assurances  that  her 
eyes  showed  no  traces  of  tears. 

I05 


Robert  Kimberly 

Very  uncertain  about  them,  she  followed  Mao 
Birney  down,  taking  refuge  at  once  in  a  corner 
with  Imogene. 

While  the  two  were  talking,  Grace  De  Castro 
and  Larrie  Morgan  came  in,  bringing  some  young 
friends.  "Aren't  they  the  nicest  couple?"  ex 
claimed  Alice  as  they  crossed  the  room. 

"It  is  a  blessing  they  are,"  said  Imogene. 
"You  see,  Grace  will  probably  succeed  to  the  De 
Castro  fortune,  and  Larrie  is  likely  sometime  to 
have  the  Kimberly  burdens.  It  crushes  me  to 
think  that  Charles  and  I  have  no  children." 

"Are  you  so  fond  of  children?"  Alice  asked 
wistfully. 

"Why,  of  course,  dear;  aren't  you?" 

"Indeed  I  am,  too  fond  of  them.  I  lost  my  only 
child,  a  baby  girl : 

"And  you  never  have  had  another?" 

"No." 

"If  Robert  would  marry,  we  should  have  a 
family  hope  there,"  continued  Imogene.  "But 
I  am  afraid  he  never  will.  How  did  you  enjoy 
your  evening  at  The  Towers  ?" 

"We  had  a  delightful  time." 

"Isn't  Robert  a  good  host?  I  love  to  see  him 
preside.  And  he  hasn't  given  a  dinner  before  for 
years." 

"Why  is  that?" 

I O6 


Robert  Kimberly 

Imogene  laid  her  hand  gently  on  Alice's.  "It 
is  a  long  story,  dear,  a  tragedy  came  into  his  life — 
into  all  our  lives,  in  fact.  It  changed  him  greatly." 

Soon  after  the  MacBirneys  came  down,  the 
Nelsons  arrived  on  the  scene  and  the  company 
moved  to  a  south  room  to  get  the  breeze.  Imo 
gene  talked  with  Alice  and  MacBirney,  but  Kim 
berly  joined  them  and  listened,  taking  part  at 
intervals  in  the  conversation. 

When  Imogene's  attention  was  taken  by  Mac 
Birney,  Robert,  asking  Alice  if  she  got  the  air 
from  the  cooling  windows,  moved  her  chair  to 
where  the  breeze  could  be  felt  more  perceptibly. 
"I  hope  you  haven't  had  bad  news  to-night,"  he 
said,  taking  a  seat  on  a  divan  near  her. 

She  understood  instantly  that  her  eyes  had  not 
escaped  his  scrutiny,  but  concealed  her  annoyance 
as  best  she  could.  "No,  indeed.  But  I  had 
some  exciting  news  to-night." 


"What  was  it?" 


"Oh,  I  mayn't  tell,  may  I  ?  I  am  not  supposed 
to  know  anything,  am  I  ?" 

Her  little  uncertainty  and  appeal  made  her 
charmingly  pretty,  he  thought,  as  he  watched  her. 
The  traces  in  her  eyes  of  tears  attracted  him  more 
than  anything  he  had  seen  before.  Her  first 
little  air  of  annoyed  defiance  and  her  effort  to 
throw  him  off  the  track,  all  interested  him,  and  her 

107 


Robert  Kimberly 

appeal  now,  made  in  a  manner  that  plainly  said 
she  was  aware  the  secret  of  the  news  was  his  own, 
pleased  him. 

He  was  in  the  mood  of  one  who  had  made  his 
plans,  put  them  through  generously,  and  was 
ready  for  the  enjoyment  that  might  follow.  "Cer 
tainly,  you  are  supposed  to  know,"  said  he  gra 
ciously.  "Why  not?  And  you  may  tell  if  you 
like.  At  any  rate,  I  absolve  you  as  far  as  I'm 
concerned.  I  couldn't  conceive  you  guilty  of  a 
very  serious  indiscretion." 

"Then  I  suppose  you  know  that  we  are  very 
happy,  and  why — don't  you  ?" 

"Perhaps;  but  that  should  be  mere  excitement. 
How  about  the  tears  ?" 

She  frowned  an  impatient  protest  and  rose. 
"Oh,  I  haven't  said  anything  about  tears.  They 
are  going  out  on  the  porch — shall  we  join  them  ?" 
He  got  up  reluctantly  and  followed  her. 

Arthur  De  Castro  and  Charles  Kimberly  offered 
chairs  to  Alice.  They  were  under  a  cluster  of 
electric  lamps,  where  she  did  not  wish  to  sit  for 
inspection.  As  she  hesitated  Robert  Kimberly 
spoke  behind  her.  "Possibly  it  will  be  pleasanter 
over  here,  Mrs.  MacBirney." 

He  was  in  the  shadow  and  had  drawn  a  chair 
for  her  near  Nelson  outside  the  circle  of  light, 
from  which  she  was  glad  to  escape.  He  took  the 

108 


Robert  Kimberly 

seat  under  the  light  himself.  When  an  ice  was 
served,  the  small  tables  were  drawn  together. 
Alice,  occupied  with  Nelson,  who  inspired  by  his 
vis-a-vis  had  summoned  something  of  his  grand 
air,  lost  the  conversation  of  the  circle  until  she 
heard  Doctor  Bryson,  and  turned  with  Nelson 
to  listen.  He  was  thanking  Mrs.  De  Castro  for 
a  compliment. 

"I  am  always  glad  to  hear  anything  kind  of  my 
profession."  He  spoke  simply  and  his  manner 
Alice  thought  engaging.  "It  is  a  high  calling — 
and  I  know  of  but  one  higher.  We  hear  the  com 
plaint  that  nowadays  medicine  is  a  savagely  mer 
cenary  profession.  If  a  measure  of  truth  lies  in 
the  charge  I  think  it  is  due  to  the  fact  that  doctors 
are  victims  of  the  mercenary  spirit  about  them. 
It's  a  part  of  the  very  air  they  breathe.  They 
can't  escape  it.  The  doctor,  to  begin  with,  must 
spend  one  small  fortune  to  get  his  degree.  He 
must  spend  another  to  equip  himself  for  his  work. 
Ten  of  the  best  years  of  his  life  go  practically  to 
getting  ready.  His  expense  for  instruments,  ap 
pliances,  and  new  and  increasingly  elaborate  ap 
pointments  is  continuous." 

"But  doctor,"  Fritzie  Venable  leaned  forward 
with  a  grave  and  lengthened  face,  "think  of  the 
fees!" 

The  doctor  enjoyed  the  laugh.  "Quite  true. 
109 


Robert  Kimberly 

When  you  find  an  ambitious  doctor,  unless  his  en 
ergy  is  restrained  by  a  sense  of  his  high  responsi 
bility,  he  may  be  possessed  of  greed.  If  a  surgeon 
be  set  too  fast  on  fame  he  will  affect  the  spectacu 
lar  and  cut  too  much  and  too  freely.  I  admit  all  of 
this.  My  plea  is  for  the  conscientious  doctor,  and 
believe  me,  there  are  many  such.  Nor  must  you 
forget  that,  at  the  best,  half  our  lives  we  are  too 
young  to  please  and  half  our  lives  too  old." 

"Hamilton  said  the  other  night,"  observed 
Robert  Kimberly,  filling  in  the  pause,  "that  a  good 
doctor  must  spend  his  time  in  killing,  not  his  own 
patients,  but  his  own  business." 

"No  other  professional  man  is  called  on  to  do 
that,"  observed  Bryson.  "Indeed,  the  saddest  of 
all  possible  proofs  of  the  difficulties  of  our  calling 
is  found  in  the  fact  that  the  suicide  rate  among 
doctors  is  the  highest  in  the  learned  professions." 

MacBirney  expressed  surprise.  "I  had  no 
idea  of  such  a  thing.  Had  you,  Mr.  Kimberly?" 
he  asked  with  his  sudden  energy. 

"I  have  known  it,  but  perhaps  only  because  I 
have  been  interested  in  questions  of  that  kind." 

Dolly's  attention  was  arrested  at  once  by  the 
mention  of  suicide.  "Oh,  dear,"  she  exclaimed, 
"Don't  let  us  talk  about  suicide." 

But  Robert  Kimberly  could  not  always  be  shut 
off  and  this  subject  he  pursued  with  a  certain 

no 


Robert  Kimberly 

firmness.  Some  of  the  family  were  disturbed  but 
no  one  presumed  to  interfere.  "Suicide/'  he  went 
on,  "has  a  painful  interest  for  many  people.  Has 
your  study  of  it,  doctor,  ever  led  you  to  believe 
that  it  presupposes  insanity  ? "  he  asked  of  Bryson. 

"By  no  means." 

"You  conclude  then  that  sane  men  and  women 
do  commit  suicide?" 

"Frequently,  Mr.  Kimberly." 

Kimberly  drew  back  in  his  chair.  "I  am  glad 
to  be  supported  in  my  own  conviction.  The  fact 
is,"  he  went  on  in  a  humorous  tone,  "  I  am  forced 
either  to  hold  in  this  way  or  conclude  that  I  am 
sprung  from  a  race  of  lunatics." 

"Robert,"  protested  Dolly,  "can't  we  talk  about 
something  else  ?" 

Kimberly,  however,  persisted,  and  he  now  had, 
for  some  reason  not  clear  to  Alice,  a  circle  of  pain 
fully  acute  listeners.  "The  insanity  theory  is  in 
many  cases  a  comfortable  one.  But  I  don't  find 
it  so,  and  I  must  stick  to  the  other  and  regard 
suicide  as  the  worst  possible  solution  of  any  possi 
ble  difficulty." 

Doctor  Bryson  nodded  assent.  Kimberly  spoke 
on  with  a  certain  intensity.  "If  every  act  of  a 
man's  life  had  been  a  brave  one,"  he  continued, 
"his  suicide  would  be  all  the  more  the  act  of  a 
coward.  I  don't  believe  that  kind  of  a  man  can 

in 


Robert  Kimberly 

commit  suicide.     Understand,  I    am   considering 
the  act  of  a  man — not  that  of  a  youth  or  of  one 


immature." 


"Well,  I  don't  care  what  you  are  considering, 
Robert/'  declared  Dolly  with  unmistakable  em- 
phasis,  "we  will  talk  about  something  else." 


112 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  conversation  split  up.  Kimberly,  un 
ruffled,  turned  to  Alice  and  went  on  in  an 
undertone:  "I  am  going  to  tell  you  Francis's 
views  on  the  subject  anyway.  He  has  the  most  in 
tense  way  of  expressing  himself  and  the  panto 
mime  is  so  contributing.  '  Suicide,  Mr.  Kimberly,' 
he  said  to  me  one  day,  'is  no  good.  What  would 
a  man  look  like  going  back  to  God,  carrying  his 
head  in  his  hand?  "Well,  I  am  back,  and  here 
are  the  brains  you  gave  me/'  "What  did  you  do 
with  them?"  "I  blew  them  out  with  a  bullet!" 
That  is  a  poor  showing  I  think,  Mr.  Kimberly,  for 
business.  Suicide  is  no  good.'  ' 

"  But  who  is  this  Brother  Francis,"  asked  Alice, 
"whom  I  hear  so  much  of?  Tell  me  about  him." 

"He  is  one  of  the  fixtures  at  The  Towers.  A 
religious  phenomenon  whom  I  personally  think  a 
great  deal  of;  an  attendant  and  a  nurse.  He  is 
an  Italian  with  the  courtesy  of  a  gentleman  worn 
under  a  black  gown  so  shabby  that  it  would  be 
absurd  to  offer  it  to  a  second-hand  man." 

"Does  the  combination  seem  so  odd?" 

"To  me  he  is  an  extraordinary  combination." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Row  did  you  happen  to  get  him  ?" 
"That  also  is  curious.  The  Kimberlys  are 
cantankerous  enough  when  well;  when  ill  they 
are  likely  to  be  insupportable.  Not  only  that, 
but  kindness  and  faithfulness  are  some  of  the 
things  that  money  cannot  buy;  they  give  them 
selves  but  never  sell  themselves.  When  my  uncle 
fell  ill,  after  a  great  mental  strain,  we  hired  nurses 
for  him  until  we  were  distracted — men  and 
women,  one  worse  than  another.  We  tried  all 
colors  and  conditions  of  human  kind  without  find 
ing  one  that  would  suit  Uncle  John.  I  began  to 
think  of  throwing  him  into  the  lake — and  told 
him  so.  He  cried  like  a  child  the  day  I  had  the 
set-to  with  him.  To  say  the  truth,  the  old  gentle 
man  hasn't  many  friends  left  anywhere,  but  early 
impressions  are  a  great  deal  to  us,  you  know,  and 
I  remember  him  when  he  was  a  figure  in  the  coun 
cils  of  the  sugar  world. 

"I  recall,"  continued  Kimberly,  "a  certain 
Black  Friday  in  our  own  little  affairs  when  the 
wolves  got  after  us.  The  banks  were  throwing 
over  our  securities  by  the  wagon-load,  and  this 
old  man  who  sits  and  swears  and  shakes  there, 
alone,  upstairs,  was  all  that  remained  between 
us  and  destruction.  He  stood  in  our  down-town 
office  with  fifty  men  fighting  to  get  at  him — strug 
gling,  yelling,  screaming,  and  cursing,  and  some 

114 


Robert  Kimberly 

who  couldn't  even  scream  or  curse,  livid  and 
pawing  the  air. 

"He  stood  behind  his  desk  all  day  like  a  field- 
marshal,  counselling,  advising,  ordering,  buying, 
steadying,  reassuring,  juggling  millions  in  his  two 
hands  like  conjuror's  balls.  I  could  never  forget 
that.  I  am  not  answering  your  question — 

"But  do  go  on!"  There  were  no  longer  tears 
in  Alice's  eyes.  They  were  alive  with  interest. 
"That,"  she  exclaimed,  "was  splendid!" 

"He  won  out,  and  then  he  set  himself  on  ven 
geance.  That  was  the  end  of  our  dependence  on 
other  people's  banks.  Most  people  learn  sooner 
or  later  that  a  banking  connection  is  an  expensive 
luxury.  He  finally  drove  off  the  street  the  two 
institutions  that  tried  to  save  themselves  at  our 
expense.  The  father  of  Cready  and  Frank  Ham 
ilton,  Richard  Hamilton,  a  rank  outsider,  helped 
Uncle  John  in  that  crisis  and  Uncle  John  made 
Richard  Hamilton  to  pillow  his  head  on  tens  of 
millions.  Since  that  day  we  have  been  our  own 
bankers;  that  is,  we  own  our  own  banks.  And 
this  is  curious,  never  from  that  day  to  this  has 
Uncle  John  completely  trusted  any  man — not  even 
me — except  this  very  man  w^e  are  talking  about." 

"Brother  Francis?" 

"Brother  Francis.  You  asked  how  I  got  him; 
it  is  not  uninteresting;  a  sort  of  sermon  on  good 


Robert  Kimberly 

deeds.  Just  before  this  big  school  in  the  valley 
was  started,  the  order  to  which  he  belongs  had 
been  expelled  from  France — it  was  years  ago; 
the  reformers  over  there  needed  their  property. 
Half  a  dozen  of  the  Brothers  landed  down  here  in 
the  village  with  hardly  a  coat  to  their  backs.  But 
they  went  to  work  and  in  a  few  years  had  a  little 
school.  The  industry  of  these  people  is  astonish- 
ing" 

"One  day  they  came  to  The  Towers  for  aid. 
Old  Brother  Adrian,  the  head  Brother,  came 
himself — as  he  long  aftenvard  told  me — with  a 
heavy  heart,  indeed,  with  fear  and  trembling. 
The  iron  gates  and  the  Krupp  eagles  frightened 
him,  he  said,  when  he  entered  the  grounds.  And 
when  he  asked  for  the  mistress  of  the  house,  he 
could  hardly  find  voice  to  speak.  My  mother  was 
away,  so  Aunt  Lydia  appeared — you  have  seen 
her  portrait,  haven't  you  ?" 

"No." 

"You  must;  it  is  not  unlike  you.  Aunt  Lydia 
and  my  mother  were  two  of  the  loveliest  wTornen  I 
have  ever  known.  When  she  came  down  that 
day,  Brother  Adrian  supposing  it  w^as  my  mother 
begged  a  slight  aid  for  the  work  they  had  under 
taken  in  the  valley.  Aunt  Lydia  heard  him  in 
silence,  and  without  saying  a  word  went  upstairs, 
wrote  out  a  cheque  and  brought  it  down.  He 

116 


Robert  Kimberly 

glanced  at  the  figures  on  it — fifty — thanked  her, 
gave  it  to  the  young  Brother  with  him,  and  with 
some  little  compliment  to  the  beauty  of  The 
Towers,  rose  to  go. 

"While  they  were  moving  toward  the  door  the 
young  Brother,  studying  the  cheque  grew  pale, 
halted,  looked  at  it  again  and  handed  it  to  his 
superior.  Brother  Adrian  looked  at  the  paper 
and  at  the  young  Brother  and  stood  speechless. 
The  two  stared  a  moment  at  each  other.  Aunt 
Lydia  enjoyed  the  situation.  Brother  Adrian  had 
thought  the  gift  had  been  fifty  dollars — it  was 
fifty  thousand. 

"He  fainted.  Servants  were  hurried  in.  Even 
wrhen  he  recovered,  he  was  dazed — he  really  for  a 
year  had  not  had  enough  to  eat.  Aunt  Lydia  al 
ways  delighted  in  telling  how  the  young  Brother 
helped  him  down  the  avenue  after  he  could  walk. 
This  is  a  tediously  long  story." 

"Do  go  on." 

"When  he  again  reached  the  big  iron  gates  he 
turned  toward  the  house  and  with  many  strange 
words  and  gestures  called  down  the  mercies  of 
Heaven  on  that  roof  and  all  that  should  ever 
sleep  under  it " 

"How  beautiful!" 

"He  blessed  us  right  and  left,  up  and  down, 
fore  and  aft — he  was  a  fine  old  fellow,  Adrian. 

117 


Robert  Kimberly 

When  my  mother  heard  the  story  she  was  naturally 
embarrassed.  It  looked  something  like  obtaining 
blessings  under  false  pretences.  The  only  thing 
she  could  do  to  ease  her  conscience  was  to  send 
over  a  second  cheque." 

"Princely !" 

"It  came  near  killing  Brother  Adrian.  It  seems 
odd,  too,  compared  with  the  cut-and-dried  way  in 
which  we  solemnly  endow  institutions  nowadays, 
doesn't  it  ?  They  all  three  are  dead,  but  we  have 
always  stood,  in  a  way,  with  Adrian's  people. 

"The  young  man  that  made  the  exciting  call  with 
him  is  now  the  superior  over  there,  Brother  Ed 
mund.  After  the  trouble  we  had  with  Uncle  John, 
in  finding  some  one  he  could  stand  and  who  could 
stand  him,  I  went  one  day  in  despair  to  Brother 
Edmund.  I  allowed  him  to  commit  himself 
properly  on  what  they  owed  to  Aunt  Lydia's 
goodness  and  the  rest,  and  then  began  to  abuse 
him  and  told  him  he  ought  to  supply  a  nurse  for 
my  uncle.  He  told  me  theirs  was  a  teaching  order 
and  not  a  nursing  order.  I  redoubled  my  harsh 
ness.  'It  is  all  very  well  when  you  need  anything/ 
I  said,  'when  we  need  anything  it  is  different. 
Did  those  women,'  I  thundered,  'ask  what  you 
were,  when  you  were  starving  here  ?' 

"It  wasn't  precisely  logical,  but  abuse  should  be 
vigorous  rather  than  logical,  anyway,  and  I  tried 

1x8 


Robert  Kimberly 

to  be  vigorous.  They  got  very  busy,  I  can  tell 
you.  They  held  a  conclave  of  some  sort  and  de 
cided  that  Uncle  John  must  be  taken  care  of.  If 
he  were  a  common  pauper,  they  argued,  they 
would  not  refuse  to  take  care  of  him;  should  they 
refuse  because  he  was  a  pauper  of  means  ?  They 
concluded  that  it  was  a  debt  they  owed  to  Aunt 
Lydia  and  by  Keaven,  next  morning  over  came 
this  sallow- faced,  dark-eyed  Brother  Francis,  and 
there  he  is  still  with  Uncle  John." 


CHAPTER  XII 

MACBIRNEY'S  personal  efforts  in  effecting 
the  combination  with  the  Kimberly  in 
terests  were  adjudged  worthy  of  a  substantial  recog 
nition  at  the  hands  of  the  company  and  he  was 
given  charge  of  the  Western  territory  together  with 
a  place  on  the  big  directorate  of  all  the  companies 
and  made  one  of  the  three  voting  trustees  of  the 
syndicate  stock.  The  two  other  trustees  were, 
as  a  "matter  of  form,"  Kimberly  men — McCrea 
and  Cready  Hamilton.  This"  meant  for  Mac- 
Birney  a  settled  Eastern  residence  and  one  befitting 
a  gentleman  called  to  an  honor  so  unusual.  He 
was  made  to  feel  that  his  new  circumstances  en 
tailed  new  backgrounds  socially  as  well  as  those 
that  had  been  accorded  him  in  a  monetary  way, 
and  through  the  Kimberlys,  negotiations  were 
speedily  concluded  for  his  acquiring  of  the  Cedar 
Lodge  villa  some  miles  across  the  lake  from 
The  Towers. 

At  the  end  of  a  trying  two  months,  the  Mac- 
Birneys  were  in  their  new  home  and  Alice  had 
begun  receiving  from  her  intimates  congratula 
tions  over  the  telephone.  Another  month,  and  a 

1 20 


Robert  Kimberly 

busy  one,  went  to  finishing  touches.  At  the  end 
of  that  period  there  was  apparently  more  than 
ever  to  be  done.  It  seemed  that  a  beginning  had 
hardly  been  made,  but  the  new  servants  were  at 
home  in  their  duties,  and  Alice  thought  she  could 
set  a  date  for  an  evening.  Her  head,  night  and 
day,  was  in  more  or  less  of  a  whirl. 

The  excitement  of  new  fortunes  had  come  very 
suddenly  upon  her  and  with  her  husband  she 
walked  every  day  as  if  borne  on  the  air  of  waking 
dreams.  Dolly  declared  that  Alice  was  working  too 
hard,  and  that  her  weary  conferences  with  deco 
rators  and  furnishers  were  too  continual.  Occa 
sionally,  Dolly  took  matters  into  her  own  hands 
and  was  frequently  in  consultation  on  domestic 
perplexities;  sometimes  she  dragged  Alice  abruptly 
from  them. 

Even  before  it  had  been  generally  seen,  the  new 
home,  once  thrown  open,  secured  Alice's  reputation 
among  her  friends.  What  was  within  it  reflected 
her  taste  and  discrimination.  And  her  appoint 
ments  were  not  only  good,  they  were  distinctive. 
To  be  able  to  drape  the  vestments  of  a  house  so  as 
to  make  of  it  almost  at  once  a  home  was  not  a 
feat  to  pass  unnoticed  among  people  who  studied 
effects  though  they  did  not  invariably  secure  them. 

Robert  Kimberly  declared  that  Alice,  under 
many  disadvantages,  had  achieved  an  air  of  sta- 

121 


Robert  Kimberly 

bility  and  permanence  in  her  home.  Dolly  told 
Lottie  Nelson  that  nothing  around  the  lake 
among  the  newer  homes  compared  with  it.  Lottie 
Nelson  naturally  hated  Alice  more  cordially  than 
ever  for  her  success.  She  ventured,  when  the 
new  house  was  being  discussed  at  a  dinner,  to  say 
that  Mr.  MacBirney  seemed  to  have  excellent 
taste;  whereupon  Charles  Kimberly  over  a  salad 
bluntly  replied  that  the  time  MacBirney  had 
shown  his  taste  was  when  he  chose  a  wife.  "  But," 
added  Charles,  reflectively,  "perhaps  a  man  doesn't 
prove  his  taste  so  much  in  getting  a  wife  as  in 
keeping  one. 

"Any  man,"  he  continued,  "may  be  lucky  enough 
to  get  a  wife;  we  see  that  every  day.  But  who, 
save  a  man  of  feeling,  could  keep,  well,  say  Imo- 
gene  or  Dolly,  for  instance?" 

Robert  agreed  that  if  the  MacBirney  home 
showed  anything  it  showed  the  touch  of  an  agree 
able  woman.  "Any  one,"  he  declared,  para 
phrasing  his  brother,  "can  buy  pretty  things,  but 
it  takes  a  clever  woman  to  combine  them." 

One  result  of  the  situation  was  a  new  cordiality 
from  Lottie  Nelson  to  the  MacBirneys.  And 
since  it  had  become  necessary  to  pay  court  to 
them,  Lottie  resolved  to  pay  hers  to  Mr.  Mac 
Birney.  She  was  resourceful  rather  than  deep, 
and  hoped  by  this  to  annoy  Alice  and  possibly  to 

122 


Robert  Kimberly 

stir  Robert  Kimberly  out  of  his  exasperating  indif 
ference.  The  indifference  of  a  Kimberly  could  as 
sume  in  its  proportions  the  repose  of  a  monument. 

Lottie,  too,  was  a  mover  in  many  of  the  diver 
sions  arranged  to  keep  the  lake  set  amused.  But 
as  her  efforts  did  not  always  tend  to  make  things 
easy  for  Alice,  Dolly  became  active  herself  in  sug 
gesting  things. 

One  Saturday  morning  a  message  came  from 
her,  directing  Alice  to  forbid  her  husband's  going 
to  town,  drop  everything,  provide  a  lunch  and  join 
a  motoring  party  for  the  seashore.  MacBirney 
following  the  lines  of  Robert  Kimberly's  expe 
rience  with  cars  had  secured  at  his  suggestion, 
among  others,  a  foreign  car  from  which  things 
might  reasonably  be  expected. 

Imogene  Kimberly  and  Charles  took  Alice  with 
them  and  Dolly  rode  with  MacBirney,  who  had 
Robert  Kimberly  with  him  in  the  new  car  to  see 
how  it  behaved.  Kimberly's  own  chauffeur  drove 
for  them.  Doane  took  Arthur  De  Castro  and 
Fritzie  Venable.  The  servants  and  the  lunch 
followed  with  a  De  Castro  chauffeur. 

As  the  party  climbed  toward  Sea  Ridge  a  shower 
drove  them  into  the  grounds  of  a  country  club. 
While  it  rained,  the  women,  their  long  veils  thrown 
back,  walked  through  the  club  house,  and  the 
men  paced  about,  smoking. 

123 


Robert  Kimberly 

Alice,  seated  at  a  table  on  the  veranda,  was 
looking  at  an  illustrated  paper  when  Robert 
Kimberly  joined  her.  He  told  her  what  extrava 
gant  stones  he  had  heard  from  Dolly  about  the 
success  of  her  new  home.  She  laughed  over  his 

o 

sister's  enthusiasm,  admitted  her  own,  and  con 
fessed  at  length  how  the  effort  to  get  satisfactory 
effects  had  tired  her.  He  in  turn  described  to 
her  what  he  had  once  been  through  in  starting 
a  new  refinery  and  how  during  the  strain  of  six 
weeks  the  hair  upon  his  temples  had  perceptibly 
whitened,  turning  brown  again  when  the  mental 
pressure  was  relieved. 

"I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing,"  exclaimed 
Alice. 

"I  don't  know  how  unusual  it  is,  but  it  has 
happened  more  than  once  in  our  family.  I  re 
member  my  mother's  hair  once  turned  in  that 
way.  But  my  mother  had  much  sadness  in  her 
life." 

"Mrs.  De  Castro  often  speaks  of  your  mother." 

"She  was  a  brave  woman.  You  have  never 
seen  her  portrait  ?  Sometime  at  The  Towers  you 
must.  And  you  can  see  on  her  temples  just  what 
I  speak  of.  But  your  home-making  will  have  just 
the  opposite  effect  on  you.  If  care  makes  the 
hair  white,  happiness  ought  to  make  it  browner 
than  ever." 

124 


Robert  Kimberly 

'I  suppose  happiness  is  wholly  a  matter  of 
illusion." 

"I  don't  see  that  it  makes  much  difference  how 
we  define  it;  the  thing  is  to  be  happy.  However, 
if  what  you  say  is  so,  you  should  cling  to  your  illu 
sions.  Get  all  you  can — I  should — and  keep  all 
you  can  get." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  practise  that?" 

"Of  course  I  do.  And  I  think  for  a  man  I've 
kept  my  illusions  very  well." 

"For  a  man!"  Alice  threw  her  head  back. 
"That  is  very  comfortable  assurance." 

He  looked  at  her  with  composure.  "What  is 
it  you  object  to  in  it  ?" 

"To  begin  with,"  demanded  Alice,  "how  can  a 
man  have  any  illusions  ?  He  knows  everything 
from  the  very  beginning." 

"Oh,  by  no  means.     Far  from  it,  I  assure  you." 

"He  has  every  chance  to.  It  is  only  the  poor 
women  who  are  constantly  disillusionized  in  life." 

"You  mustn't  be  disillusionized,  Mrs.  MacBir- 
ney.  Hope  unceasingly." 

She  resented  the  personal  application.  "I  am 
not  speaking  of  myself." 

"Nor  am  I  speaking  of  you,  only  speaking 
through  you  to  womankind.  You  'poor  women' 
should  not  be  discouraged."  He  raised  his  head 
as  if  he  were  very  confident.  "If  we  can  hope, 

125 


Robert  Kimberly 

you  can  hope.     I  hope  every  day.     I  hope  in  a 


woman." 


She  bore  his  gaze  as  she  had  already  borne  it 
once  or  twice  before,  steadily,  but  as  one  might 
bear  the  gaze  of  a  dangerous  creature,  if  strength 
ened  by  the  certainty  of  iron  bars  before  its  im 
passive  eyes.  Kimberly  was  both  too  considerate 
and  possessed  too  much  sense  of  fitness  to  overdo 
the  moment.  With  his  hand  he  indicated  a  wom 
an  walking  along  a  covered  way  in  front  of  them. 
"  There,  for  instance,  goes  a  woman/'  he  contin 
ued,  following  up  his  point.  "Look  at  her.  Isn't 
she  pretty  ?  I  like  her  walk.  And  a  woman's  walk ! 
It  is  impossible  to  say  how  much  depends  on  the 
walk.  And  all  women  that  walk  well  have  good 
feet;  their  heels  set  right  and  there  is  a  pleasure 
in  watching  each  sure  foot-fall.  Notice,  for  in 
stance,  that  woman's  feet;  her  walk  is  perfect." 

"How  closely  observant!" 

"She  is  well  gowned — but  everybody  is  well 
gowned.  And  her  figure  is  good.  Let  us  say,  I 
hope  in  her,  hope  she  will  be  all  she  looks.  I 
follow  the  dream.  In  a  breath,  an  instant,  a  twin 
kling,  the  illusion  has  vanished!  She  has  spoken, 
or  she  has  looked  my  way  and  I  have  seen  her 
face.  But  even  then  the  face  is  only  the  dial  of 
the  watch;  it  may  be  very  fair.  Sometime  I  see 
her  mind — and  everything  is  gone!" 

126 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Would  it  be  impertinent  to  ask  who  has  put 
women  up  in  this  way  to  be  inspected  and  criti 
cised  ?"  retorted  Alice. 

"Not  in  the  least.  I  am  speaking  only  in  illus 
tration  and  if  you  are  annoyed  with  me  I  shall 
miss  making  my  point.  Do  I  give  up  merely  be 
cause  I  have  lost  an  illusion  ?  Not  at  all.  Another 
springs  up  at  once,  and  I  welcome  it.  Let  us  live 
in  our  illusions;  every  time  we  part  with  one  and 
find  none  to  take  its  place  we  are  poorer,  Mrs. 
MacBirney,  believe  me." 

"Just  the  same,  I  think  you  are  horridly  criti 
cal  of  women." 

"Then  you  should  advise  me  to  cultivate  my 
illusions  in  their  direction." 

"I  should  if  I  thought  it  were  necessary.  As  I 
have  a  very  high  opinion  of  women,  I  don't  think 
any  illusions  concerning  them  are  necessary." 

"Loftily  said.  And  I  sha'n't  allow  you  to  think 
my  own  opinion  any  less  high.  When  I  was  a 
boy,  women  were  all  angels  to  me;  they  are  not 
quite  that,  we  know." 

"In  spite  of  illusions." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  put  them  very  much  lower 
than  the  angels — and  I  don't.  I  keep  them  up 
because  I  like  to." 

Her  comment  was  still  keen.  "Not  because 
they  deserve  it." 

127 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I  won't  quarrel  with  you — because,  then,  they 
do  deserve  it.  It  is  pleasant  to  be  set  right." 

The  shower  had  passed  and  the  party  was  mak 
ing  ready  to  start.  Alice  rose.  "You  haven't  said 
what  you  think  of  your  own  kind,  as  you  call 
them — menkind." 

Kimberly  held  her  coat  for  her  to  slip  into. 
"Of  course,  I  try  not  to  think  of  them." 

When  they  reached  the  summit  dividing  the 
lake  country  from  the  sea  the  sun  was  shining. 
To  the  east,  the  sound  lay  at  their  feet.  In  the 
west  stretched  the  heavy  forests  and  the  long  chain 
of  lakes.  They  followed  the  road  to  the  sea  and 
after  their  shore  luncheon  relaxed  for  an  hour  at 
the  yacht  club.  Driving  back  by  the  river  road 
they  put  the  new  car  through  some  paces,  and 
halting  at  intervals  to  interchange  passengers, 
they  proceeded  homeward. 

Going  through  Sunbury  at  five  o'clock  the  cars 
separated.  MacBirney,  with  whom  Robert  Kim 
berly  was  again  riding,  had  taken  in  Fritzie  Vena- 
ble  and  Alice.  Leaving  the  village  they  chose  the 
hill  road  around  the  lake.  Brice,  Kimberly's 
chauffeur,  took  advantage  of  the  long,  straight 
highway  leading  to  it  to  let  the  car  out  a  little. 
They  were  running  very  fast  when  he  noticed  the 
sparker  was  binding  and  stopped  for  a  moment. 
It  was  just  below  the  Roger  Morgan  place  and 

128 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly,  who  could  never  for  a  moment  abide 
idleness,  suggested  that  they  alight  while  Brice 
worked.  He  stood  at  the  door  of  the  tonneau  and 
gave  his  hand  to  Alice  as  she  stepped  from  the 
car.  In  getting  out,  her  foot  slipped  and  she 
turned  her  ankle.  She  would  have  fallen  but 
that  Kimberly  caught  her.  Alice  recovered  her 
self  immediately,  yet  not  without  an  instant's 
dependence  on  him  that  she  would  rather  have 
escaped. 

Brice  was  slow  in  correcting  the  mechanical 
difficulty,  and  finding  it  at  last  in  the  magneto 
announced  it  would  make  a  delay  of  twenty  min 
utes.  Fritzie  suggested  that  they  walk  through 
her  park  and  meet  the  car  at  the  lower  end.  Mac- 
Birney  started  up  one  of  the  hill  paths  with  Alice, 
Kimberly  and  Fritzie  following.  They  passed 
Morgan  house  and  higher  in  the  hills  they  reached 
the  chapel.  Alice  took  her  husband  in  to  see  the 
beauty  of  the  interior.  She  told  him  Dolly's  story 
of  the  building  and  when  Fritzie  and  Kimberly 
joined  them,  Alice  was  regretting  that  Dolly  had 
failed  to  recollect  the  name  of  the  church  in  Rome 
it  was  modelled  after.  Kimberly  came  to  her  aid. 
"Santa  Maria  in  Cosmedin,  I  think." 

"Oh,  do  you  remember?  Thank  you,"  ex 
claimed  Alice.  "Isn't  it  all  beautiful,  Walter? 
And  those  old  pulpits — I'm  in  love  with  them!" 

129 


Robert  Kimberly 

MacBirney  pronounced  everything  admirable 
and  prepared  to  move  on.  He  walked  toward  the 
door  with  Fritzie. 

Alice,  with  Kimberly,  stood  before  the  chancel 
looking  at  the  balustrade.  She  stopped  near  the 
north  ambone,  and  turning  saw  in  the  soft  light 
of  the  aisle  the  face  of  the  boy  dreaming  in  the 
silence  of  the  bronze. 

Below  it,  measured  words  of  Keats  were  dimly 
visible.  Alice  repeated  them  half  aloud.  "What 
a  strange  inscription,"  she  murmured  almost  to 
herself. 

Kimberly  stood  at  her  elbow.     "It  is  strange." 

She  was,  silent  for  a  moment.  "I  think  it 
is  the  most  beautiful  head  of  a  boy  I  have  ever 
seen." 

"Have  you  seen  it  before?" 

"I  was  here  once  with  Mrs.  De  Castro." 

"She  told  you  the  story?" 

"No,  we  remained  only  a  moment."  Alice 
read  aloud  the  words  raised  in  the  bronze: 

' Robert  Ten  Broeck  Morgan:   aetat:   20.'  ' 

"Should  you  like  to  hear  it?" 

"Very  much." 

"His  father  married  my  half-sister — Bertha; 
Charles  and  I  are  sons  of  my  father's  second  mar 
riage.  'Tennie*  was  Bertha's  son — strangely  shy 
and  sensitive  from  his  childhood,  even  morbidly 


Robert  Kimberly 

sensitive.     I    do    not   mean    unbalanced    in    any 

way " 

"I  understand." 

"A  sister  of  his,  Marie,  became  engaged  to  a 
young  man  of  a  Southern  family  \vho  came  here 
after  the  war.  They  were  married  and  their  wed 
ding  was  made  the  occasion  of  a  great  family 
affair  for  the  Morgans,  and  Alices  and  Legares  and 
Kimberlys.  Tennie  was  chosen  for  groomsman. 
The  house  that  you  have  seen  below  was  filled 
with  wedding  guests.  The  hour  came." 

"And  such  a  place  for  a  wedding!"  exclaimed 
Alice. 

"But  instead  of  the  bridal  procession  that  the 
guests  were  looking  for,  a  clergyman  came  down 
the  stairs  with  a  white  face.  When  he  could 
speak,  he  announced  as  well  as  he  could  that  the 
wedding  would  not  take  place  that  night;  that  a 
terrible  accident  had  occurred,  and  that  Tennie 
Morgan  was  lying  upstairs  dead." 

Alice  could  not  recall,  even  afterward,  that  Kim 
berly  appeared  under  a  strain;  but  she  noticed  as 
she  listened  that  he  spoke  with  a  care  not  quite 
natural. 

"You  may  imagine  the  scene,"  he  continued. 
"But  the  worst  was  to  come 

"Oh,  you  were  there?" 

"When  you  hear  the  rest  you  will  think,  if  there 


Robert  Kimberly 

is  a  God,  I  should  have  been,  for  I  might  have 
saved  him.  I  was  in  Honolulu.  I  did  not  even 
hear  of  it  for  ten  days.  They  found  him  in  his 
bathroom  where  he  had  dressed,  thrown  himself 
on  a  couch,  and  shot  himself." 

"How  terrible!" 

"In  his  bedroom  they  found  a  letter.  It  had 
been  sent  to  him  within  the  hour  by  a  party  of 
blackmailers,  pressing  a  charge — of  which  he 
was  quite  innocent — on  the  part  of  a  designing 
woman,  and  threatening  that  unless  he  complied 
with  some  impossible  demands,  his  exposure  and 
news  of  an  action  for  damages  should  follow  in 
the  papers  containing  the  account  of  his  sister's 
wedding.  They  found  with  this  his  own  letter  to 
his  mother.  He  assured  her  the  charge  was 
utterly  false,  but  being  a  Kimberly  he  knew  he 
should  not  be  believed  because  of  the  reputation 
of  his  uncles,  one  of  whom  he  named,  and  after 
whom  he  himself  was  named,  and  to  wrhom 
he  had  always  been  closest.  This,  he  feared, 
would  condemn  him  no  matter  how  innocent  he 
might  be;  he  felt  he  should  be  unable  to  lift  from 
his  name  a  disgrace  that  would  always  be  recalled 
with  his  sister's  wedding;  and  that  if  he  gave  up 
his  life  he  knew  the  charges  would  be  dropped  be 
cause  he  was  absolutely  innocent.  And  so  he 
died." 

132 


Robert  Kimberly 

For  a  moment  Alice  stood  in  silence.  "Poor, 
poor  boy!"  she  said  softly.  "How  I  pity  him!" 

"Do  you  so?  Then  well  may  I.  For  I  am 
the  uncle  whom  he  named  in  his  letter." 

Unable  or  unwilling  to  speak  she  pointed  to  the 
tablet  as  if  to  say:  "You  said  the  uncle  he  was 
named  after." 

He  understood.  "Yes,"  he  answered  slowly, 
"my  name  is  Robert  Ten  Broeck  Kimberly." 

Her  eyes  fell  to  the  tessellated  pavement.  "It 
is  frightfully  sad,"  she  said  haltingly.  Then  as  if 
she  must  add  something:  "I  am  very  sorry  you 
felt  compelled  to  recall  so  painful  a  story." 

"It  isn't  exactly  that  I  felt  compelled;  yet  per 
haps  that  expresses  it,  too.  I  have  expected  some 
time  to  tell  it  to  you." 


133 


CHAPTER  XIII 

showers  returned  in  the  night.  They 
JL  kept  Alice  company  during  several  sleepless 
hours.  In  the  morning  the  sun  was  out.  It  was 
Sunday  and  when  Annie  brought  her  mistress  her 
rolls  and  chocolate  Alice  asked  the  maid  if  she  had 
been  to  church. 

"  Kate  and  I  went  to  early  church,"  said  Annie. 

"And  what  time  is  late  church,  Annie?" 

"Ten  thirty,  Mrs.  MacBirney." 

"I  am  going  myself  this  morning/' 

"And  what  will  you  wear?" 

"Anything  that  is  cool." 

Alice  was  thinking  less  of  what  she  should  wear 
than  of  how  she  should  tell  her  husband  that  she 
had  resolved  upon  going  to  church.  Painful  ex 
perience  had  taught  her  what  ridicule  and  re 
source  of  conjugal  meanness  to  expect  whenever 
she  found  courage  to  say  she  meant  to  go  to  church. 
Yet  hope,  consoling  phantom,  always  suggested 
that  her  husband  the  next  time  might  prove  more 
amenable  to  reason. 

When  at  last  she  managed  casually  to  men 
tion  her  momentous  resolve,  MacBirney  showed 


Robert  Kimberly 

that  he  had  lost  none  of  his  alertness  on  the  sub 
ject.  He  made  use  first  of  surprise  to  express 
his  annoyance.  "To  church  ?"  Then  he  gave 
vent  to  a  contemptuous  exclamation  uttered  with 
a  semblance  of  good-natured  indifference.  "I 
thought  you  had  got  that  notion  pretty  well  out 
of  your  head,  Alice." 

"  You  have  got  it  pretty  well  out  for  me,  Walter. 
Sometimes  it  comes  back.  It  came  this  morning 
— after  a  wakeful  night.  I  haven't  been  for  a 
long  time." 

"What  church  do  you  want  to  go  to?" 

His  disingenuousness  did  not  stir  her.  "To  my 
own,  of  course.  There  is  a  little  church  in  the 
village,  you  know." 

"Oh,  that  frame  affair,  yes.  Awfully  cheap 
looking,  isn't  it  ?  And  it  threatens  rain  again. 
Don't  mind  getting  wet?" 

"Oh,  no,  I'll  take  the  victoria." 

''You  can't;  Peters  is  going  to  drive  me  over  to 
The  Towers." 

"Then  give  me  one  of  the  cars." 

"I  understand  they  are  both  out  of  order." 

"Oh,  Walter!  Can't  you  have  Peters  drive 
you  to  The  Towers  after  he  takes  me  to  Sun- 
bury?" 

"  I  have  an  engagement  with  Robert  Kimberly 
at  eleven  o'clock." 

135 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Could  you  change  it  a  little,  do  you  think, 
Walter  ?"  " 

"An  engagement  with  Robert  Kimberly!" 

"Or  be  just  a  little  late  for  it?" 

MacBirney  used  his  opportunity  to  advantage. 
"Keep  him  waiting!  Alice,  when  you  get  an  idea 
into  your  head  about  going  to  church  you  lose 
your  common-sense." 

She  turned  to  the  window  to  look  at  the  sky. 
"I  can't  walk,"  she  said  hopelessly.  Her  hus 
band  made  no  comment.  As  her  eyes  turned 
toward  the  distant  Towers  she  remembered  that 
Robert  Kimberly  the  evening  before  had  asked 
— and  so  insistently  that  it  had  been  one  of  the 
causes  of  her  wakefulness — for  permission  to 
bring  over  in  the  morning  some  grapes  from  his 
hot-houses.  He  had  wanted  to  come  at  eleven 
o'clock  and  she  had  assured  him  she  should  not 
be  at  home — this  because,  during  some  uneasy 
moments  when  they  were  close  together  in  the 
car,  she  had  resolved  that  the  next  morning  she 
should  seek  if  only  for  an  hour  an  influence  long 
neglected  but  quite  removed  from  his.  It  was 
clear  to  her  as  she  now  stood  at  the  window,  that 
Kimberly  had  sought  every  chance  to  be  at  her 
personal  service  at  eleven  o'clock,  even  though 
her  husband  professed  an  engagement  with  him. 

"Couldn't  Peters,"  she  asked,  turning  again  to 
136 


Robert  Kimberly 

MacBirney,  "drive  me  down  half  an  hour  earlier — 
before  you  go  ?  I  can  wait  at  the  church  till  he 
comes  back  after  me?" 

MacBirney  was  reading  the  stock-market  re 
ports  in  the  morning  paper.  "All  right,"  he  said 
curtly. 

She  was  contained  this  time.  There  had  been 
occasions  when  scenes  such  as  this  had  brought 
hot  tears,  but  five  years  of  steady  battering  had 
fairly  subdued  Alice. 

At  high  mass,  an  hour  later,  villagers  saw  a 
fine  lady — a  Second  Lake  lady,  they  shrewdly 
fancied  from  the  carriage  that  brought  her — 
kneeling  among  them  in  a  pew  close  to  the  altar, 
and  quite  oblivious  of  those  about  her,  kneeling, 
too,  at  times  when  they  stood  or  sat;  kneeling 
often  with  her  face — which  they  thought  pretty — 
hidden  in  her  hands  as  if  it  somehow  had  offended; 
kneeling  from  the  credo  until  the  stragglers  in  the 
vestibule  and  about  the  church  door  began  to  slip 
away  from  the  last  gospel.  There  was  an  unusual 
stir  about  the  church  because  it  was  a  confirma 
tion  Sunday  and  an  archbishop,  a  white-haired 
man  who  had  once  been  in  charge  of  the  little 
Sunbury  parish  himself,  was  present. 

Alice  followed  the  last  of  the  congregation  out 
of  the  door  and  into  the  village  sunshine.  She 
looked  up  and  down  the  country  road  for  her 

137 


Robert  Kimberly 

horses  but  none  were  in  sight.  Below  the  church 
where  the  farmers'  rigs  stood,  a  big  motor-car 
watched  by  village  boys  was  waiting.  They  knew 
that  the  car,  with  its  black  and  olive  trimmings, 
was  from  The  Towers  because  they  were  familiar 
with  the  livery  of  the  villa  grooms. 

Their  curiosity  was  rewarded  when  they  saw  the 
fine  lady  come  out  of  the  church.  The  instant 
she  appeared  a  great  gentleman  stepped  from  the 
black  tonneau  and,  lifting  his  hat  very  high,  hast 
ened  across  the  muddy  road  to  greet  her — cer 
tainly  she  made  a  picture  as  she  stood  on  the 
church  steps  in  her  tan  pongee  gown  with  her 
brown  hair  curling  under  a  rose-wreathed  Leg 
horn  hat. 

Her  heart  gave  a  frightened  jump  when  she  saw 
who  was  coming.  But  when  the  gentleman  spoke, 
his  voice  was  so  quiet  that  even  those  loitering 
near  could  not  hear  his  words.  There  was  some 
discussion  between  the  two.  His  slight  gestures 
as  they  talked,  seemed  to  indicate  something  of 
explanation  and  something  of  defence.  Then  a 
suggestion  of  urgency  appeared  in  his  manner. 
The  fine  lady  resisted. 

From  under  her  pongee  parasol  she  looked 
longingly  up  the  road  and  down  for  her  horses, 
but  for  a  while  no  horses  came.  At  last  a  carriage 
looking  like  her  own  did  come  down  the  lake 

138 


Robert  Kimberly 

road  and  she  hoped  for  a  moment.     Then  as  the 
carriage  drove  rapidly  past  her  face  fell. 

The  great  gentleman  indicated  his  annoyance 
at  the  insolent  mud  that  spattered  from  the  car 
nage  wheel  by  a  look,  but  he  kept  quite  near  to 
the  fine  lady  and  his  eyes  fell  very  kindly  on  her 
pink  cheeks.  Her  carnage  did  not  come  even 
after  they  had  gone  to  his  car  and  seated  themselves 
in  the  tonneau  to  await  it.  He  was  too  clever  to 
hurry  her.  He  allowed  her  to  wait  until  she  saw 
her  case  was  quite  hopeless,  then  she  told  him  he 
might  drive  her  home. 

"  I  came,"  he  explained,  answering  an  annoyed 
note  in  a  second  question  that  she  asked,  "because 
I  understood  you  were  going  to  church " 

"But  I  did  not  say  I  was." 

"I  must  have  dreamed  it." 

Brice,  sitting  at  the  wheel  in  front  of  them, 
smiled — but  only  within  his  heart — when  this 
came  to  his  ears;  because  it  was  Brice  who  had 
been  asked  during  the  morning  where  Mrs.  Mac- 
Birney  was  and  Brice  who  had  reported.  He 
was  senior  to  Peters,  senior  to  all  the  Second  Lake 
coachmen  and  chauffeurs,  and  usually  found  out 
whatever  he  wanted  to  find  out. 

"At  any  rate,"  Kimberly  laughed  good-natured 
ly,  "I  have  been  waiting  here  half  an  hour  for 
you." 

I39 


Robert  Kimberly 

Brice  knew  that  this  was  true  to  the  minute,  for 
in  that  half-hour  there  had  been  many  glances  at 
two  good  watches  and  a  hamper  of  hot-house 
grapes.  Brice  himself,  since  a  certain  missed 
train,  involving  language  that  lingered  yet  in 
his  ears,  carried  a  good  watch. 

But  to-day  not  even  amiable  profanity,  which 
Brice  recalled  as  normal  during  extended  waits, 
had  accompanied  the  unusual  detention.  No  mes 
senger  had  been  despatched  to  sound  the  young 
village  priest  with  a  view  of  expediting  the  mass 
and  the  fine  lady  had  been  in  nowise  interrupted 
during  her  lengthened  devotions.  Kimberly,  in 
this  instance,  had  truthfully  been  a  model  of 
patience. 

"  These  are  the  grapes,"  Brice  heard  behind 
him,  as  he  let  the  machine  out  a  bit  and  fancied 
the  top  of  the  hamper  being  raised.  "Aren't  they 
exceptional  ?  I  found  the  vines  in  Algeria.  There 
are  lilies  on  this  side." 

An  expression  of  involuntary  admiration  came 
from  the  tonneau.  "Assumption  lilies !  For  your 
sister  ? " 

"No,  for  you.     They  are  to  celebrate  the  feast." 

"The  feast?  Why,  of  course!"  Then  came  a 
categorical  question,  animated  but  delivered  with 
keenness:  "How  did  you  know  that  to-day  is  the 
feast  of  the  Assumption  ?" 

140 


Robert  Kimberly 

A  bland  evasion  followed.  "I  supposed  that 
every  one  knew  the  fifteenth  of  August  is  the  feast 
of  the  Assumption.  Taste  this  grape." 

"I  am  very  sure  you  didn't  know." 

"But  I  did.     Taste  the  grape." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"Whence  have  you  the  faculties  of  the  Inquisi 
tion  ?  Why  do  you  rack  me  with  questions  ?" 

"I  begin  to  suspect,  Mr.  Kimberly,  that  you 
belong  on  the  rack." 

"No  doubt.  At  least  I  have  spent  most  of  my 
life  there." 

"Come,  please!     Wlio  told  you?" 

" Francis,  of  course;  now  will  you  taste  this 
grape?" 


141 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WHEN  MacBirney  reached  home  with  the 
victoria  Alice  had  not  yet  taken  off  her  hat, 
and  a  maid  was  bringing  vases  for  the  lilies.  He 
had  been  driving  toward  Sea  Ridge  and  taken  the 
wrong  road  and  was  sorry  for  his  delay  in  getting 
to  the  church.  Alice  accepted  his  excuses  in 
good  part.  He  tried  to  explain  his  misunder 
standing  about  the  engagement  with  Kimberly. 
She  relieved  his  endeavors  by  making  everything 
easy,  telling  him  finally  how  Kimberly  had  brought 
her  home  and  had  left  the  grapes  and  lilies.  When 
the  two  sat  down  at  luncheon,  MacBirney  noticed 
Alice's  preoccupation;  she  admitted  she  had  a 
slight  headache.  She  was  glad,  however,  to  have 
him  ask  her  to  go  for  a  long  motor  drive  in  the 
afternoon,  thinking  the  air  would  do  her  good, 
and  they  spent  three  hours  together. 

When  they  got  home  it  was  dusk.  The  dinner 
served  on  the  porch  was  satisfying  and  the  day 
which  had  opened  with  so  little  of  promise  seemed 
to  do  better  at  the  close.  Indeed,  Alice  all  day 
had  sought  quiet  because  she  had  something  to 

142 


Robert  Kimberly 

say  which  she  was  resolved  to  say  this  day.  After 
dinner  she  remained  with  her  husband  in  the 
moonlight.  He  was  talking,  over  his  cigar,  of  an 
idea  for  adding  a  strip  of  woodland  to  the  lowTer 
end  of  their  new  estate,  when  she  interrupted  him. 

"Should  you  be  greatly  shocked,  Walter,  if  I 
said  I  wish  we  could  go  away  from  here?"  She 
was  leaning  toward  him  on  the  arm  of  her  chair 
when  she  spoke  and  her  hands  were  clasped. 

His  astonishment  was  genuine.  "What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Yet  I  feel  as  if  we  ought  to  go, 
Walter." 

"What  for?" 

She  was  looking  earnestly  at  him,  but  in  the 
shadow  he  could  not  see,  though  he  felt,  her  eyes. 

"It  is  hard  to  explain."  She  paused  a  moment. 
''These  people  are  delightful;  you  know  I  like 
them  as  much  as  you  do." 

MacBirney  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth  to  ex 
press  his  surprise.  "I  thought  you  were  crazy 
about  the  place  and  the  people  and  everything 
else,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  thought  this  was  just 
what  you  were  looking  for!  YouVe  said  so  much 
about  refined  luxury  and  lovely  manners 

"I  am  thinking  of  all  that."  There  was  enough 
in  her  tone  of  an  intention  to  be  heard  to  cause  him 
to  forget  his  favorite  expedient  of  drowning  the 


Robert  Kimberly 

subject  in  a  flood  of  words.  "But  with  all  this, 
or  to  enjoy  it  all,  one  needs  peace  of  mind,  and 
my  peace  of  mind  is  becoming  disturbed." 

Quite  misunderstanding  her,  MacBirney  thought 
she  referred  to  the  question  of  church-going,  and 
that  subject  offered  so  much  delicate  ground  that 
Alice  continued  without  molestation. 

"It  is  very  hard  to  say  what  I  meant  to  say, 
without  saying  too  little  or  too  much.  You  know, 
Walter,  you  were  worried  at  one  time  about  how 
Mr.  Robert  Kimberly  would  look  at  your  pro 
posals,  and  you  told  me  you  wanted  me  to  be  agree 
able  to  him.  And  without  treating  him  differently 
from  any  one  else  here,  I  have  tried  to  pay  particu 
lar  regard  to  what  he  had  to  say  and  everything 
of  that  kind.  It  is  awfully  hard  to  specify,"  she 
hesitated  in  perplexity.  "I  am  sure  I  haven't 
discriminated  him  in  any  way  from  his  brother, 
or  Mr.  De  Castro,  for  instance.  But  I  have  al 
ways  shown  an  interest  in  things  he  had  to  point 
out,  and  he  seemed  to  enjoy — perhaps  more  than 
the  others — pointing  things  out.  And " 

"Well?" 

"It  seems  to  me  now  as  if  he  has  begun  to  take 
an  interest  in  everything  7  do " 

Her  husband  became  jocular.     "Oh,  has  he?" 

Alice's  words  came  at  last  bluntly.  "And  it 
completely  upsets  me,  Walter." 

144 


Robert  Kimberly 

MacBirney  laughed  again.     "Why  so?" 

She  took  refuge  in  a  shade  of  annoyance. 
"Because  I  don't  like  to  think  about  it." 

"Think  about  what?" 

"About  any  man's — if  I  must  say  it — paying 
attention  to  me,  except  my  husband." 

"Now  you  are  hitting  me,  aren't  you,  Alice? 
You  are  pretty  clever,  after  all,"  declared  Mac 
Birney  still  laughing. 

She  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair.  "Oh, 
Walter,  you  don't  understand  at  all!  Nothing 
could  be  further  from  what  I  am  thinking.  I 
ought  not  to  say  he  has  been  attentive  enough 
to  speak  of.  It  is  not  that  I  dislike  Mr.  Kim 
berly.  But  he  does  somehow  make  me  un 
comfortable.  Perhaps  I  don't  understand  their 
way  here." 

"Why,  that  is  all  there  is  to  it,  Alice.  It's 
merely  their  way.  Give  it  no  thought.  He  is 
simply  being  agreeable.  Don't  imagine  that  every 
man  that  sends  you  flowers  is  interested  in  you. 
Is  that  all,  Allie?" 

"Yes."  Her  acuteness  divined  about  what  he 
would  reply.  "And,"  she  added,  "I  think,  how 
ever  foolish  it  may  sound,  it  is  enough." 

"Don't  worry  about  bridges  you  wrill  never  have 
to  cross.  That's  the  motto  I've  followed." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but " 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Just  a  moment.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to 
treat  everybody  alike." 

"But,  Walter- 

uYou  would  have  to  do  that  anywhere  — 
shouldn't  you  ?  Of  course.  Suppose  we  should 
go  somewhere  else  and  find  a  man  that  threatened 
to  become  an  admirer — 

"Don't  use  such  a  word!" 

"Call  it  what  you  please — we  can't  keep  mov 
ing  away  from  that  kind  of  a  possibility,  can  we  ?" 

"Still,  Walter,  I  feel  as  if  we  might  get  away 
from  here.  I  have  merely  told  you  exactly  what 
I  thought." 

"We  can't  get  away.  This  is  where  everything 
is  done  in  the  sugar  business.  This  is  the  little 
world  where  the  big  moves  are  decided  upon.  If 
you  are  not  here,  you  are  not  in  it.  We  are  in  the 
swim  now;  it  took  long  enough  to  get  in  it,  God 
knows.  Now  let  us  stay.  You  can  take  care  of 
yourself,  can't  you  ?" 

"How  can  you  ask  me!" 

He  pursued  her  with  a  touch  of  harshness. 
"How  can  I  ask  you  ?  Aren't  you  talking  about 
running  away  from  a  situation  ?  7  don't  run 
away  from  situations.  I  call  the  man  or  woman 
that  runs  away  from  a  situation,  a  coward.  Face 
it  down,  work  it  out — don't  dodge  it." 

MacBirney  finished  without  interruption. 
146 


Robert  Kimberly 

In  the  living  room  the  telephone  bell  rang.  He 
went  in  to  answer  it  and  his  wife  heard  him  a 
moment  in  conversation.  Then  on  the  garage 
wire  he  called  up  the  chauffeur  and  ordered  a  car. 
Coming  out  again  on  the  porch  he  explained: 
"Lottie  wants  us  to  come  over." 

"Lottie?"  There  was  a  shade  of  resentment, 
almost  of  contempt,  in  Alice's  echo  and  inquiry. 

"Lottie  Nelson." 

"Don't  call  her  Lottie,  Walter." 

"She  calls  me  Walter." 

"She  has  no  business  to.  What  did  you  tell 
her  ?  Don't  let  us  go  out  to-night." 

"It  is  a  little  celebration  of  some  kind  and  I 
told  her  we  would  come." 

"My  head  has  ached  all  day." 

"It  will  do  your  head  good.  Come  on.  I  told 
her  we  were  coming." 


147 


CHAPTER  XV 

THEY  found  a  lively  party  at  the  Nelsons'. 
Guyot  was  there,  with  Lambert,  thick- 
lipped  and  voluble.  Dora  Morgan  with  Doane 
and  Cready  Hamilton  had  come,  worn  and  be 
draggled,  from  a  New  England  motoring  trip. 
Dora,  still  quite  hoarse,  was  singing  a  music-hall 
song  when  the  MacBirneys  entered  the  room. 

She  stopped.  "My  ears  are  crazy  to-night — 
I  can't  sing/'  she  complained,  responding  to 
Alice's  greeting.  "I  feel  as  if  thete  were  a  motor 
in  my  head.  Tired  ?  Oh,  no,  not  a  bit.  But  the 
dust!"  Her  smile  died  and  her  brows  rose  till 
her  pretty  eyes  shone  full.  She  threw  her  ex 
piring  energy  into  two  husky  words:  "Something 
fierce!" 

Dolly  and  her  husband  with  Imogene  and 
Charles  had  responded  to  Lottie's  invitation,  and 
Robert  Kimberly  came  later  with  Fritzie  Venable. 
Dolly  greeted  Alice  with  apologies.  "I  am  here," 
she  admitted  with  untroubled  contempt,  "but  not 
present.  I  wanted  to  see  what  Lambert  looks 
like.  We  hear  so  much  about  his  discoveries. 
Robert  doesn't  think  much  of  them." 

148 


Robert  Kimberly 

Mrs.  Nelson,  languidly  composed,  led  Mac- 
Birney  to  the  men  who  were  in  an  alcove  off  the 
music  room.  Near  them  sat  Robert  Kimberly 
talking  to  Imogene.  Dora  could  not  be  coaxed  to 
sing  again.  But  the  hostess  meant  to  force  the 
fighting  for  a  good  time.  Dora  joined  the  men 
and  Guyot,  under  Nelson's  wing,  came  over  to 
meet  Alice,  who  had  taken  refuge  with  Dolly.  At 
a  time  when  the  groups  were  changing,  Nelson 
brought  Lambert  over.  But  neither  Alice  nor 
Dolly  made  objection  when  his  host  took  him 
away  again. 

Kimberly  came  after  a  while  with  Fritzie  to 
Alice's  divan  and,  standing  behind  it,  tried  by 
conversation  and  such  attraction  of  manner  as  he 
could  offer,  to  interest  Alice.  He  failed  to  waken 
any  response.  She  quite  understood  a  woman's 
refuge  from  what  she  wishes  to  avoid  and  per 
severed  in  being  indifferent  to  every  effort. 

Kimberly,  not  slow  to  perceive,  left  presently 
for  the  party  in  the  dining-room.  But  even  as  he 
walked  away,  Alice's  attitude  toward  him  called 
to  her  mind  a  saying  of  Fritzie's,  that  it  is  not 
pleasant  to  be  unpleasant  to  pleasant  people, 
even  if  it  is  unpleasant  to  be  pleasant  to  un 
pleasant  people. 

"Were  you  tired  after  yesterday's  ride  ?"  asked 
Dolly  of  Alice. 

149 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Not  too  tired." 

"Robert  told  you  about  Tennie  Morgan's 
death." 

Alice  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  "How  did 
you  know?" 

"You  were  in  the  Morgan  chapel  together. 
And  you  looked  upset  when  you  came  back.  I 
had  promised  to  tell  you  the  stoiy  sometime  my 
self.  I  know  how  easy  it  is  to  get  a  false  impres 
sion  concerning  family  skeletons.  So  I  asked 
Robert  about  it  the  minute  you  left  the  car,  and  I 
was  annoyed  beyond  everything  when  he  said  he 
had  told  you  the  whole  story." 

"But  dear  Mrs.  De  Castro!  Why  should  you 
be  annoyed  ?" 

Dolly  answered  with  decision:  "Robert  has  no 
business  ever  to  speak  of  the  affair."  Alice  could 
not  dispute  her  and  Dolly  went  on:  "I  know 
just  how  he  would  talk  about  it.  Not  that  I 
know  what  he  said  to  you.  But  it  would  be  like 
him  to  take  very  much  more  of  the  blame  on  him 
self  than  belongs  to  him.  Men,  my  dear,  look  at 
these  things  differently  from  women,  and  usually 
make  less  of  them  than  women  do.  In  this  case 
it  is  exactly  the  reverse.  Robert  has  always  had 
an  exaggerated  idea  of  his  responsibility  in  the 
tragedy — that  is  why  it  annoys  me  ever  to  have 
him  speak  about  it.  I  know  my  brother  better,  I 

150 


Robert  Kimberly 

think,  than  anybody  alive  knows  him,  and  I  am 
perfectly  familiar  with  all  the  circumstances.  I 
know  what  I  am  talking  about." 

Very  much  in  earnest  Dolly  settled  back.  "To 
begin  with,  Tennie  was  an  abnormal  boy.  He 
was  as  delicate  in  his  mental  texture  as  cobweb 
lace.  His  sensitiveness  was  something  incredible 
and  twenty  things  might  have  happened  to  upset 
his  mental  balance.  No  one,  my  dear,  likes  to 
talk  state  secrets." 

"Pray  do  not,  then.  It  really  is  not  necessary," 
pleaded  Alice. 

"Oh,  it  is,"  said  Dolly  decidedly,  "I  want  you 
to  understand.  Suicide  has  been  a  spectre  to  the 
Kimberlys  for  ages.  Two  generations  ago  Schuy- 
ler  Kimberly  committed  suicide  at  sixty-six — 
think  of  it!  Oh!  I  could  tell  you  stories.  There 
has  been  no  suicide  in  this  generation.  But  the 
shadow,"  Dolly's  tones  were  calm  but  inflected 
with  a  burden  of  what  cannot  be  helped  may  as 
well  be  admitted,  "seems  only  to  have  passed  it 
to  fall  upon  the  next  in  poor  Tennie.  Two  years 
afterward  they  found  his  mother  dead  one  morn 
ing  in  bed.  I  don't  know  what  the  trouble  was 
— it  was  in  Florence.  Nobody  knows — there  was 
just  a  little  white  froth  on  her  lips.  The  doctors 
said  heart  disease.  She  was  a  strange  woman, 
Bertha,  strong-willed  and  self-indulgent — like  all 
the  rest  of  us." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Don't  say  that  of  yourself.  You  are  not  self- 
indulgent,  you  are  generous." 

"I  am  both,  dear.  But  I  know  the  Kimberlys, 
men  and  women,  first  and  last,  and  that  is  why  I 
do  not  want  you  to  get  wrong  impressions  of  them. 
My  brother  Robert  isn't  a  saint,  neither  is  Charles. 
But  compare  them  with  the  average  men  of  their 
own  family;  compare  them  with  the  average  men 
in  their  own  situation  in  life;  compare  them  with 
the  Nelsons  and  the  Doanes;  compare  them  with 
that  old  man  that  Robert  is  so  patient  with! 
Compare  them,  my  dear,  to  the  men  everywhere 
in  the  world  they  move  in — I  don't  think  the 
Kimberly  men  of  this  generation  need  apologize 
particularly. 

"  Robert  was  so  completely  stunned  by  Tennie's 
death  that  for  years  I  did  not  know  what  would 
happen.  Then  a  great  industrial  crisis  came  in 
our  affairs,  though  afterward  it  seemed,  in  a  way, 
providential.  Poor  old  Uncle  John  got  it  into 
his  head  he  could  make  sugar  out  of  corn  and 
ended  by  nearly  ruining  us  all.  If  things  had 
gone  on  we  should  all  have  been  living  in  apart 
ments  within  another  year.  When  we  were  so 
deep  in  the  thing  that  the  end  was  in  sight  we 
went  to  Robert  on  our  knees,  and  begged  him  to 
take  hold  of  the  business  and  save  the  family — 
oh,  it  had  come  quite  to  that.  He  had  been  do 
ing  absolutely  nothing  for  a  year  and  I  feared  all 

152 


Robert  Kimberly 

sorts  of  things  about  him.  But  he  listened  and 
did  take  hold  and  made  the  business  so  big — 
well,  dear  heart,  you  have  some  idea  what  it  is 
now  when  they  can  take  over  a  lot  of  factories, 
such  as  those  of  your  husband  and  his  associates, 
on  one  year's  profits.  I  suppose,  of  course,  these 
are  state  secrets — you  mustn't  repeat  them ' 

"Certainly  not." 

"And  for  years  they  have  been  the  largest 
lenders  of  ready  money  in  the  Street.  So  you  can't 
wonder  that  we  think  a  great  deal  of  Robert.  And 
he  likes  you — I  can  see  that.  He  has  been  more 
natural  since  you  came  here  than  for  years." 

"Surely  your  brothers  never  can  say  they  have 
not  a  devoted  sister." 

"I  can't  account  for  it,"  persisted  Dolly,  con 
tinuing.  "It  is  just  that  your  influence  is  a  good 
one  on  him;  no  one  can  explain  those  things.  I 
thought  for  years  he  would  never  be  influenced 
by  any  woman  again.  You've  seen  how  this 
one,"  Dolly  tossed  her  head  in  disgust  as  she  in 
dicated  Lottie  Nelson,  then  passing,  "throws  her 
self  at  him."  With  the  last  words  Dolly  rose  to 
say  she  wras  going  home.  Imogene  was  ready  to 
join  her,  and  Lottie's  protests  were  of  no  avail. 
Charles  was  upstairs  conferring  with  Nelson  and 
Imogene  went  up  to  get  him. 

Alice  walked  to  the  dining-room.  Her  hus- 
153 


Robert  Kimberly 

band,  in  an  uncommonly  good-humor,  was  drink 
ing  with  their  hostess.  In  the  centre  of  the  room, 
Hamilton,  Guyot,  Lambert,  and  Dora  Morgan 
sat  at  the  large  table.  Guyot  offered  Alice  a  chair. 
She  sat  down  and  found  him  entertaining.  He 
took  her  after  a  time  into  the  reception  room  where 
Lottie  had  hung  a  Degas  that  Guyot  had  brought 
over  for  her.  Alice  admired  the  fascinating  swift 
ness  and  sureness  of  touch  but  did  not  agree  with 
Guyot  that  the  charm  was  due  to  the  merit  of 
color  over  line.  When  the  two  returned  to  the 
dining-room,  Kimberly  stood  at  a  cellaret  with 
Fritzie. 

Lottie  and  MacBirney  sat  with  the  group  at  the 
big  table.  "Oh,  Robert,"  Lottie  called  to  Kim 
berly  as  Alice  appeared  in  the  doorway,  "mix  me 
a  cocktail." 

Turning,  Kimberly  saw  Alice:  "I  am  out  of 
practice,  Lottie,"  he  said. 

"Give  me  some  plain  whiskey  then." 

Kimberly's  shortness  of  manner  indicated  his 
annoyance.  "You  have  that  at  your  hand,"  he 
said  sitting  down. 

"How  rude,  Robert,"  retorted  Lottie,  with 
assumed  impatience.  She  glanced  loftily  around. 
"Walter,"  she  exclaimed,  looking  across  the  table 
at  Alice's  husband  and  taking  Alice's  breath  away 
with  the  appeal,  "give  me  some  whiskey." 

154 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Nelson." 

"No,  stop;   mix  me  a  cocktail." 

"Is  your  husband  an  expert,  Mrs.  MacBirney  ?" 
asked  Guyot  as  MacBirney  rose. 

"Not  to  my  knowledge,"  answered  Alice  frankly. 
"I  hope,"  she  added,  with  a  touch  of  asperity  as 
her  husband  stepped  to  a  sideboard,  "that  Mrs. 
Nelson  is  not  fastidious." 

"  It  is  disgusting  the  way  my  friends  are  behav 
ing,"  complained  Lottie  turning  to  Lambert. 
"This  is  my  birthday ' 

"Your  birthday!" 

"That  is  why  you  are  all  here.  And  whoever 
refuses  now  to  drink  my  health  I  cast  off  forever." 

"  Is  this  a  regular  birthday  or  are  you  springing 
an  extra  on  us?"  demanded  Fritzie. 

"Go  on,  MacBirney,  with  your  mixture,"  ex 
claimed  Lambert,  "I'll  serve  at  the  table.  You 
are  going  to  join  us,  of  course,  Mrs.  MacBirney  ?" 

Alice  answered  in  trepidation:  "It  must  be 
something  very  light  for  me." 

"Try  whiskey,  Mrs.  MacBirney,"  suggested 
Dora  Morgan  benevolently,  "it  is  really  the  easiest 
of  all." 

Alice  grew  nervous.  Kimberly,  without  speak 
ing,  pushed  a  half-filled  glass  toward  her.  She 
looked  at  him  in  distress.  "That  will  not  hurt 
you,"  he  said  curtly. 


Robert  Kimberly 

The  men  were  talking  Belgian  politics.  Lam 
bert  was  explaining  the  antiquated  customs  of 
the  reactionaries  and  the  battle  of  the  liberals  for 
the  laicizing  of  education.  He  dwelt  on  the  stub 
bornness  of  the  clericals  and  the  difficulties  met 
with  in  modernizing  their  following. 

Kimberly  either  through  natural  dislike  for 
Lambert  or  mere  stubbornness  objected  to  the 
specific  instances  of  medievalism  adduced  and 
soon  had  the  energetic  chemist  nettled.  "What 
do  you  know  about  the  subject?"  demanded 
Lambert  at  length.  "Are  you  a  Catholic?" 

"I  am  not  a  Catholic,"  returned  Kimberly 
amiably.  "I  am  as  far  as  possible,  I  suppose, 
from  being  one.  The  doors  of  the  church  are 
wide,  but  if  we  can  believe  even  a  small  part  of 
what  is  printed  of  us  they  would  have  to  be 
broadened  materially  to  take  in  American  re 
finers." 

"If  you  are  not  a  Catholic,  what  are  you?" 
persisted  Lambert  with  heat. 

"I  have  one  serious  religious  conviction;  that  is, 
that  there  are  just  two  perfectly  managed  human 
institutions;  one,  the  Standard  Oil  Company,  the 
other  the  Catholic  Church." 

There  was  now  a  chance  to  drop  the  contro 
versy  and  the  women  together  tried  to  effect  a 
diversion.  But  Lambert's  lips  parted  over  his 

156 


Robert  Kimberly 

white  teeth  in  a  smile.  "I  have  noticed  some 
times  that  what  we  know  least  about  we  talk  best 
about."  Kimberly  stirred  languidly.  "I  was  born 
of  Catholic  parents,"  continued  Lambert,  "bap 
tized  in  the  Catholic  Church,  educated  in  it.  I 
should  know  something  about  it,  shouldn't  I  ? 
You,  Mr.  Kimberly,  must  admit  you  know  nothing 
about  it."  Kimberly  snorted  a  little.  "All  the 
same,  I  take  priests'  fables  for  wrhat  they  are 
worth,"  added  Lambert;  "such,  for  example,  as 
the  Resurrection  of  Christ."  Lambert  laughed 
heartily.  Fritzie  looked  uneasily  at  Alice  as  the 
words  fell.  Her  cheeks  were  crimsoned. 

"Can  a  central  fact  of  Christianity  such  as  the 
Resurrection  fairly  be  called  a  priests'  fable?" 
asked  Kimberly. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  Lambert  with  con 
temptuous  brevity.  "None  but  fossilized  Cath- 
lics  believe  such  nonsense!" 

"There  are  still  some  Protestants  left,"  sug 
gested  Kimberly  mildly. 

"No  priest  dictates  to  me,"  continued  the  chem 
ist,  aroused.  "No  superstition  for  me.  I  want 
Catholics  educated,  enlightened,  made  free.  I 
should  know  something  about  the  church,  should 
I  not  ?  You  admit  you  know  nothing " 

"No,  I  did  not  admit  that,"  returned  Kimberly. 
"You  admitted  it  for  me.  And  you  asked  me  a 


Robert  Kimberly 

moment  ago  what  I  was.  Lambert,  what  are 
you?" 

"I  am  a  Catholic — not  a  clerical!"  Lambert 
emphasized  the  words  by  looking  from  one  to  an 
other  in  the  circle.  Kimberly  spread  one  of  his 
strong  hands  on  the  table.  Fritzie  watching  him 
shrank  back  a  little. 

''You  a  Catholic?"  Kimberly  echoed  slowly. 
"Oh,  no;  this  is  a  mistake."  His  hand  closed. 
"  You  say  you  were  born  a  Catholic.  And  you  rid 
icule  the  very  corner-stone  of  your  faith.  The  last 
time  I  met  you,  you  were  talking  the  same  sort 
of  stuff.  I  wonder  if  you  have  any  idea  what  it 
has  cost  humanity  to  give  you  the  faith  you  sneer 
at,  Lambert  ?  To  give  you  Catholic  parents, 
men  nineteen  hundred  years  ago  allowed  them 
selves  to  be  nailed  to  crosses  and  torn  by  dogs. 
Boys  hardly  seven  years  old  withstood  starvation 
and  scourging  and  boys  of  fifteen  were  burned  in 
pagan  amphitheatres  that  you  might  be  born  a 
Christian;  female  slaves  were  thrown  into  boiling 
oil  to  give  you  the  privilege  of  faith;  delicate 
women  died  in  shameful  agonies  and  Roman 
maidens  suffered  their  bodies  to  be  torn  to  pieces 
with  red-hot  irons  to  give  you  a  Christian 
mother — and  you  sit  here  to-night  and  ridicule 
the  Resurrection  of  Christ!  Call  yourself  liberal, 
Lambert;  call  yourself  enlightened;  call  yourself 

158 


Robert  Kimberly 

Modern;  but  for  God's  sake  don't  call  yourself  a 
Catholic." 

"Stop  a  moment!"  cried  Lambert  at  white  heat. 

Lottie  put  out  her  arm.  "Don't  let's  be  cross," 
she  said  with  deliberate  but  unmistakable  au 
thority.  "I  hate  a  row."  She  turned  her  languid 
eyes  on  MacBirney.  "Walter,  what  are  these 
people  drinking  that  makes  them  act  in  this  way  ? 
Do  give  Mr.  Kimberly  something  else;  he  be 
gan  it." 

Kimberly  made  no  effort  to  soothe  any  one's 
feelings.  And  when  Fritzie  and  Alice  found  an 
excuse  to  leave  the  room  he  rose  and  walked 
leisurely  into  the  hall  after  them. 

The  three  talked  a  few  moments.  A  sound  of 
hilarity  came  from  the  music  room.  Alice  looked 
uneasily  down  the  hall. 

"I  never  knew  your  husband  could  sing,"  said 
Fritzie. 


159 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IT  dawned  only  gradually  on  Alice  that  her  hus 
band  was  developing  a  surprising  tendency. 
He  walked  into  the  life  that  went  on  at  the  Nelson 
home  as  if  he  had  been  born  to  it.  From  an  exist 
ence  absorbed  in  the  pursuit  of  business  he  gave 
himself  for  the  moment  to  one  absorbed  in  pursuit 
of  the  frivolous.  Alice  wondered  how  he  could 
find  anything  in  Lottie  Nelson  and  her  following 
to  interest  him;  but  her  husband  had  offered  two 
or  three  unpleasant,  even  distressing,  surprises 
within  as  few  years  and  she  took  this  new  one  with 
less  consternation  than  if  it  had  been  the  first. 

Yet  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  annoyance. 
Lottie  Nelson,  in  what  she  would  have  termed  an 
innocent  way,  for  she  cared  nothing  for  Mac- 
Birney,  in  effect  appropriated  him,  and  Alice 
began  to  imagine  herself  almost  third  in  the  situ 
ation. 

Tact  served  to  carry  the  humiliated  wife  over 
some  of  the  more  flagrant  breaches  of  manners 
that  Mrs.  Nelson  did  not  hesitate  at,  if  they 
served  her  caprice.  MacBirney  became  "  Walter  " 

1 60 


Robert  Kimberly 

to  her  everywhere.  She  would  call  him  from  the 
city  in  the  morning  or  from  his  bed  at  night;  no 
hour  was  too  early  to  summon  him  and  none  too 
late.  The  invitations  to  the  Nelsons'  evenings 
were  extended  at  first  both  to  Alice  and  to  him. 
Alice  accepted  them  in  the  beginning  with  a  hope 
less  sort  of  protest,  knowing  that  her  husband 
would  go  anyway  and  persuading  herself  that 
it  was  better  to  go  with  him.  If  she  wyent,  she 
could  not  enjoy  herself.  Drinking  was  an  es 
sential  feature  of  these  occasions  and  Alice's 
efforts  to  avoid  it  made  her  the  object  of  a  ridi 
cule  on  Lottie's  part  that  she  took  no  pains  to 
conceal. 

It  was  at  these  gatherings  that  Alice  began  to 
look  with  a  degree  of  hope  for  a  presence  she 
would  otherwise  rather  have  avoided.  Kimberly 
when  he  came,  which  was  not  often,  brought  to 
her  a  sense  of  relief  because  experience  had  shown 
that  he  would  seek  to  shield  her  from  embarrass 
ment  rather  than  to  expose  her  to  it. 

Lottie  liked  on  every  occasion  to  assume  to 
manage  Kimberly  together  with  the  other  men 
of  her  acquaintance.  But  from  being,  at  first, 
complaisant,  or  at  least  not  unruly,  Kimberly 
developed  mulish  tendencies.  He  would  not,  in 
fact,  be  managed.  When  Lottie  attempted  to 
force  him  there  were  outbreaks.  One  came  about 

161 


Robert  Kimberly 

over  Alice,  she  being  a  subject  on  which   both 
were  sensitive. 

Alice,  seeking  once  at  the  De  Castros'  to  escape 
both  the  burden  of  excusing  herself  and  of  drink 
ing  with  the  company,  appealed  directly  to  Kim 
berly.  "Mix  me  something  mild,  will  you,  please, 
Mr.  Kimberly?" 

Kimberly  made  ready.  Lottie  flushed  with  irri 
tation.  "Oh,  Robert!"  She  leaned  backward  in 
her  chair  and  spoke  softly  over  her  fan.  "Mix 
me  something  mild,  too,  won't  you  ?" 

He  ignored  Lottie's  first  request  but  she  was 
foolish  enough  to  repeat  it.  Kimberly  checked 
the  seltzer  he  was  pouring  long  enough  to  reply 
to  her:  "What  do  you  mean,  Lottie?  'Mix 
you  something  mild!'  You  were  drinking  raw 
whiskey  at  dinner  to-night.  Can  you  never  under 
stand  that  all  women  haven't  the  palates  of  os 
triches?"  He  pushed  a  glass  toward  Alice.  "I 
don't  know  how  it  will  taste." 

Lottie  turned  angrily  away. 

"Now  I  have  made  trouble,"  said  Alice. 

"No,"  answered  Kimberly  imperturbably," Mrs. 
Nelson  made  trouble  for  herself.  I'm  sorry  to  be 
rude,  but  she  seems  lately  to  enjoy  baiting  me." 

Kimberly  appeared  less  and  less  at  the  Nel 
sons'  and  the  coolness  between  him  and  Lottie 
increased. 

162 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  was  too  keen  not  to  notice  that  he  never 
came  to  her  house  unless  Alice  came  and  that 
served  to  increase  her  pique.  Such  revenge  as 
she  could  take  in  making  a  follower  of  MacBirney 
she  took. 

Alice  chafed  under  the  situation  and  made  every 
effort  to  ignore  it.  When  matters  got  to  a  point 
where  they  became  intolerable  she  uttered  a  pro 
test  and  what  she  dreaded  followed — an  unpleas 
ant  scene  with  her  husband.  While  she  feared 
that  succeeding  quarrels  of  this  kind  would  end 
in  something  terrible,  they  ended,  in  matter  of 
fact,  very  much  alike.  People  quarrel,  as  they  re 
joice  or  grieve,  temperamentally,  and  a  wife  placed 
as  Alice  was  placed  must  needs  in  the  end  submit 
or  do  worse.  MacBirney  ridiculed  a  little,  bullied 
a  little,  consoled  a  little,  promised  a  little,  and 
urged  his  wife  to  give  up  silly,  old-fashioned  ideas 
and  "broaden  out." 

He  told  her  she  must  look  at  manners  and  cus 
toms  as  other  people  looked  at  them.  When 
Alice  protested  against  Lottie  Nelson's  calling 
him  early  and  late  on  the  telephone  and  receiving 
him  in  her  room  in  the  morning — MacBirney  had 
once  indiscreetly  admitted  that  she  sometimes  did 
this — he  declared  these  were  no  incidents  for 
grievance.  If  any  one  were  to  complain,  Nelson, 
surely,  should  be  the  one.  Alice  maintained  that 


Robert  Kimberly 

it  was  indecent.  Her  husband  retorted  that  it  was 
merely  her  way,  that  Lottie  often  received  Robert 
Kimberly  in  this  way — though  this,  so  far  as  Robert 
was  concerned,  was  a  fiction — and  that  nobody 
looked  at  the  custom  as  Alice  did.  However,  he 
promised  to  amend — anything,  he  pleaded,  but 
an  everlasting  row. 

Alice  had  already  begun  to  hate  herself  in  these 
futile  scenes;  to  hate  the  emotion  they  cost;  to 
hate  her  heartaches  and  helplessness.  She  learned 
to  endure  more  and  more  before  engaging  in  them, 
to  care  less  and  less  for  what  her  husband  said  in 
them,  less  for  what  he  did  after  them,  less  for 
trying  to  come  to  any  sort  of  an  understanding 
with  him. 

In  spite  of  all,  however,  she  was  not  minded  to 
surrender  her  husband  willingly  to  another  woman. 
She  even  convinced  herself  that  as  his  wife  she  was 
not  lively  enough  and  resolved  if  he  wanted  gayety 
he  should  have  it  at  home.  The  moment  she  con 
ceived  the  notion  she  threw  the  gage  at  Lottie's 
aggressive  head.  Dolly  De  Castro,  who  saw  and 
understood,  warmly  approved.  "Consideration 
and  peaceable  methods  are  wasted  on  that  kind  of 
a  woman.  Humiliate  her,  my  dear,  and  she  will 
fawn  at  your  feet,"  said  Dolly  unreservedly. 

Alice  was  no  novice  in  the  art  of  entertaining; 
it  remained  only  for  her  to  turn  her  capabilities  to 

164 


Robert  Kimberly 

account.  She  made  herself  mistress  now  of  the 
telephone  appointment,  of  the  motoring  lunch,  of 
the  dining-room  gayety.  Nelson  himself  compli 
mented  her  on  the  success  with  which  she  had 
stocked  her  liquor  cabinets. 

She  conceived  an  ambition  for  a  wine  cellar 
really  worth  while  and  abandoned  it  only  when 
Robert  Kimberly  intimated  that  in  this  something 
more  essential  than  ample  means  and  the  desire 
to  achieve  were  necessary.  But  while  gently  dis 
couraging  her  own  idea  as  being  impractical,  he 
begged  her  at  the  same  time  to  make  use  of  The 
Towers'  cellars,  which  he  complained  had  fallen 
wholly  into  disuse;  and  was  deterred  only  with 
the  utmost  difficulty  from  sending  over  with  his 
baskets  of  flowers  from  the  gardens  of  The  Towers, 
baskets  of  wines  that  Nelson  and  Doane  with  their 
trained  palates  would  have  stared  at  if  served  by 
Alice.  But  MacBirney  without  these  aids  was 
put  at  the  very  front  of  dinner  hosts  and  his  table 
was  given  a  presage  that  surprised  him  more  than 
any  one  else.  As  a  consequence,  Cedar  Lodge  in 
vitations  were  not  declined,  unless  perhaps  at 
times  by  Robert  Kimberly. 

He  became  less  and  less  frequently  a  guest  at 
Alice's  entertainments,  and  not  to  be  able  to  count 
on  him  as  one  in  her  new  activities  came  after  a  time 
as  a  realization  not  altogether  welcome.  His  de- 

165 


Robert  Kimberly 

clining,  which  at  first  relieved  her  fears  of  seeing 
him  too  often,  became  more  of  a  vexation  than  she 
liked  to  admit. 

Steadily  refusing  herself,  whenever  possible,  to 
go  to  the  Nelsons'  she  could  hear  only  through  her 
husband  of  those  who  frequented  Lottie's  suppers, 
and  of  the  names  MacBirney  mentioned  none 
came  oftener  than  that  of  Robert  Kimberly. 
Every  time  she  heard  it  she  resented  his  preferring 
another  woman's  hospitalities,  especially  those  of 
a  woman  he  professed  not  to  like. 

Mortifying  some  of  her  own  pride  she  even  con 
sented  to  go  at  times  to  the  Nelsons'  with  her  hus 
band  to  meet  Kimberly  there  and  rebuke  him. 
Then,  too,  she  resolved  to  humiliate  herself  enough 
to  the  hateful  woman  who  so  vexed  her  to  observe 
just  how  she  made  things  attractive  for  her  guests; 
reasoning  that  Kimberly  found  some  entertain 
ment  at  Lottie's  which  he  missed  at  Cedar  Lodge. 

Being  in  the  fight,  one  must  win  and  Alice  meant 
to  make  Lottie  Nelson  weary  of  her  warfare. 
But  somehow  she  could  not  meet  Robert  Kimberly 
at  the  Nelsons'.  When  she  went  he  was  never 
there.  Moreover,  at  those  infrequent  intervals 
in  which  he  came  to  her  own  house  he  seemed  ill 
entertained.  At  times  she  caught  his  eye  when 
she  was  in  high  humor  herself — telling  a  story 
or  following  her  guests  in  their  own  lively  vein — 

166 


Robert  Kimberly 

regarding  her  in  a  curious  or  critical  way;  and 
when  in  this  fashion  things  were  going  at  their  best, 
Kimberly  seemed  never  quite  to  enter  into  the 
mirth. 

His  indifference  annoyed  her  so  that  as  a  guest 
she  would  have  given  him  up.  Yet  this  would 
involve  a  social  loss  not  pleasant  to  face.  Her  in 
vitations  continued,  and  his  regrets  were  frequent. 
Alice  concluded  she  had  in  some  way  displeased 
him. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

ONE  morning  she  called  up  The  Towers  to 
ask  Kimberly  for  a  dinner.     He  answered 
the  telephone  himself  and  wanted  to  know  if  he 
might  not  be  excused  from  the  dinner  and  come 
over,  if  it  were  possible,  in  the  evening. 

Alice  had  almost  expected  the  refusal.  "  I  wish 
you  would  tell  me,"  she  said,  laughing  low  and 
pleasantly,  "what  I  have  done." 

He  paused.     "What  you  have  done  ?" 

"What  I  have  done  that  you  avoid  coming  to 
Cedar  Lodge  any  more?" 

"I  don't,  do  I  ?"  He  waited  for  an  answer  but 
Alice  remained  silent.  His  tone  was  amiable  and 
his  words  simple,  yet  her  heart  was  beating  like 
a  hammer.  "You  know  I  haven't  gone  about 
much  lately,"  he  went  on,  "but  whenever  you 
really  want  me  for  a  dinner  you  have  need  only 
to  say  so." 

"I  never  ask  a  guest  for  dinner  without  wanting 
him." 

It  was  his  turn  to  laugh.  "Do  you  really  man 
age  that,  Mrs.  MacBirney  ?  I  can't;  and  yet  I 
think  myself  fairly  independent." 

1 68 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Oh,  of  course,  we  are  all  tied  more  or  less,  I 
suppose,  but — you  know  what  I  mean." 

"Then  you  do  want  me  to  appear  ?" 

Alice  suddenly  found  her  tongue.  "We  should 
never  ask  any  one  to  whom  Mr.  MacBirney  and  I 
are  under  so  many  obligations  as  we  are  to  Mr. 
Kimberly  without  'wanting  him,'  as  you  express 
it.  And  we  really  want  you  very  much  to-morrow 
night." 

He  laughed,  this  time  with  amusement.  "You 
are  rather  strong  now  on  third  persons  and  plurals. 
But  I  think  I  understand  that  you  really  do  want 


me  to  come." 


"Haven't  I  just  said  so  ?"  she  asked  with  good- 
humored  vexation. 

"Not  quite,  but  I  shall  arrive  just  the  same." 

Alice  put  up  the  receiver,  agreeably  stirred  by  the 
little  tilt.  It  was  a  lift  out  of  the  ruck  of  uncom 
fortable  thought  that  went  to  make  up  her  daily 
portion,  and  the  elation  remained  with  her  all  day. 

She  decided  that  some  vague  and  unwillingly 
defined  apprehensions  concerning  Kimberly's  feel 
ing  toward  her  were  after  all  foolish.  Why  make 
herself  miserable  with  scruples  when  she  was 
beset  with  actual  perplexities  at  home  ?  \Valter 
himself  was  now  more  of  what  she  wanted  him 
to  be.  He  perceived  his  wife's  success  in  her 
active  hospitality  and  applauded  it,  and  Alice  be- 

169 


Robert  Kimberly 

gan  to  feel  she  could,  after  all,  be  safe  in  a  nearer 
acquaintance  with  Kimberly  and  thus  lessen  a 
little  Lottie  Nelson's  pretensions. 

It  is  pleasant  to  a  woman  to  dress  with  the  as 
surance  that  anticipates  success.  Alice  went  to 
her  toilet  the  following  afternoon  with  an  anima 
tion  that  she  had  not  felt  for  weeks.  Every  step 
in  it  pleased  her  and  Annie's  approbation  as  she 
progressed  was  very  gratifying  to  her  mistress. 

The  trifles  in  finishing  were  given  twice  their 
time,  and  when  Alice  walked  into  her  husband's 
room  he  kissed  her  and  held  her  out  at  arm's  length 
in  admiration.  She  hastened  away  to  look  at  the 
table  and  the  stairs  rose  to  meet  her  feet  as  she 
tripped  down  the  padded  treads. 

Passing  the  drawing-room  the  rustle  of  her  steps 
caused  a  man  within  it  to  turn  from  a  picture  he 
was  studying,  and  Alice  to  her  surprise  saw  Kim 
berly  standing  before  a  sanguine  of  herself.  She 
gave  a  little  exclamation. 

"I  asked  not  to  be  announced,"  he  explained. 
"I  am  early  and  did  not  want  to  hurry  you."  He 
extended  his  hand.  "How  are  you?" 

"I  couldn't  imagine  who  it  was,  when  I  looked 
in,"  exclaimed  Alice  cordially.  "I  am  glad  to 
see  you." 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  waited  till  she  gave  him 
hers.  "You  look  simply  stunning,"  he  answered 

170 


Robert  Kimberly 

quietly.  "There  is  something,"  he  added  without 
giving  her  a  chance  to  speak  and  turning  from 
the  eyes  of  the  portrait  back  again  to  her  own, 
"in  your  eyes  very  like  and  yet  unlike  this.  I  find 
now  something  in  them  more  movingly  beautiful; 
perhaps  twenty-five  years  against  eighteen — I  don't 
know — perhaps  a  trace  of  tears." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Kimberly,  spare  your  extravagances. 
I  hear  you  have  been  away." 

"At  least,  I  have  never  seen  you  quite  so  beauti 
ful  as  you  are  this  moment." 

"I  am  not  beautiful  at  all,  and  I  am  quite  aware 
of  it,  Mr.  Kimberly." 

"I  would  not  wish  you  to  think  anything  else. 
There  the  beauty  of  your  character  begins." 

Her  repugnance  was  evident  but  she  bore  his 
eyes  without  flinching.  "You  humiliate  me  ex 
ceedingly,"  was  all  she  attempted  to  say. 

"The  truth  should  not  humiliate  you.     I " 

"Must  I  run  away?" 

"Not,  I  hope,  because  I  tell  you  you  are  beauti 
ful,  for  I  shall  continue  to  tell  you  so  every  time  I 
see  you." 

"Surely  you  will  not  take  advantage  of  your 
hostess,  Mr.  Kimberly?" 

"In  what  way?"    he  asked. 

"By  saying  things  most  unpleasant  for  her  to 
hear." 

171 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I  say  things  awkwardly,  perhaps  unpleasantly, 
but  always  sincerely." 

Alice  looked  down  at  her  fan,  but  spoke  with 
even  more  firmness.  "If  we  are  to  be  good  friends, 
you  must  excuse  me  even  from  sincerity  on  topics 
of  this  kind." 

"Don't  cut  me  from  your  friendship.  We  must 
be  the  best  of  friends.  I  cannot  conceive  of  you 
as  being  other  than  kind,  even  patient  with  me." 

"Then  do  not  say  things  I  cannot  listen  to." 

"I  will  never  say  anything  you  may  not  listen 
to.  But  concede  me  the  privilege — for  it  is  one — 
of  paying  honest  tribute  to  your  loveliness  when 
I  can't  help  it." 

Without  raising  her  eyes  she  spoke  with  decision. 
"I  positively  will  not  listen."  With  the-  word 
she  caught  up  her  grown  and  started  away.  He 
walked  with  her.  "I  am  afraid,"  he  said  regret 
fully,  "you  are  sorry  you  sent  for  me." 

She  turned  with  burning  eyes.  "You  should 
be  the  last  to  make  me  so,  Mr.  Kimberly." 

"I  wish  to  be  the  last.  Yet  I  hate  to  sacrifice 
sincerity." 

"There  is  something  I  put  far  above  sincerity." 

He  looked  mildly  surprised.  "What  can  it 
be?" 

"Consideration  for  the  feelings  of  another — par-, 
ticularly  if  she  be  somewhat  helpless." 

172 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Just  a  moment."  They  were  entering  the 
hall  and  he  stopped  her.  "In  what  way  are  you 
helpless?" 

"Through  consideration  on  my  part  for  my 
guest  to-night,  for  my  husband's  friend,  for  a 
friend  to  whom  we  both  owe  much " 

"You  owe  that  friend  nothing.  If  you  really 
think  so,  disabuse  your  mind.  And  I  have  never 
professed  the  slightest  friendship  for  Mr.  Mac- 
Birney.  Whatever  we  do,  let  us  keep  the  facts 
clear.  If  we  speak  of  consideration,  what  about 
my  feelings  ?  And  about  helplessness — I  am  up 
against  a  stone  wall  all  the  time  in  tryipg  to  say 
anything." 

"You  have  no  right  to  say  anything!"  exclaimed 
Alice  energetically  and  starting  on  as  she  spoke. 

"Perhaps  that  is  true.  One  that  can't  say 
things  better  than  I  do  shouldn't  attempt  them. 
If  one  of  us  must  be  humiliated  let  it  be  me. 
Where  are  you  taking  me?" 

She  stopped.  "Nowhere  at  all,  Mr.  Kimberly. 
Won't  you " 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"To  look  at  my  table.  Mr.  MacBirney  will 
be  right  down.  Won't  you  wait  for  him  in  the 
library?" 

"No." 

"I  should  be  most  grateful." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I  want  to  see  the  table  myself/' 
Alice  tossed  her  head.  "This  way  then." 
At  the  threshold  of  the  dining-room,  Kimberly 
paused.  The  table  was  dressed  in  yellow  with 
the  lowest  tones  in  the  fruits  of  the  centrepiece. 
The  pears  were  russet,  the  grapes  purple,  and 
pomegranates,  apples,  and  golden  plums  sup 
plied  the  tints  of  autumn.  The  handles  of  the 
old  silver  basket  were  tied  with  knots  of  broad, 
yellow  ribbon.  Alice,  touching  the  covers  here 
and  there,  passed  behind  the  chairs. 

"You  get  your  effects  very  simply,"  observed 
Kimberly.  "Only  people  with  a  sure  touch  can 
do  that." 

"I  thought  there  were  to  be  no  more  compli 


ments." 


He  looked  at  the  sconces.  "Just  one  for  the 
lighting.  Even  Dolly  and  Imogene  sin  in  that 
way.  They  overdo  it  or  underdo  it,  and  Mrs. 
Nelson  is  impossible.  Where  have  you  put  me  ?" 

She  pointed  with  her  fan.  "Next  to  Mrs. 
Nelson." 

"Next  to  Mrs.  Nelson  ?"  he  echoed  in  surprise. 

"Why  not?" 

"Did  you  say  humiliation?  Do  I  deserve  so 
much?" 

"At  dinner  one  tries,  of  course,  to  group  con 
genial  people,"  suggested  Alice  coldly. 


Robert  Kimberly 

"But  we  are  not  congenial." 

"I  supposed  you  were  Mrs.  Nelson's  most 
frequent  guest." 

"I  have  not  been  at  Mrs.  Nelson's  since  the 
evening  Guyot  and  Lambert  were  there,"  said 
Kimberly.  u  You,  yourself,  were  there  that  night." 

Alice  betrayed  no  confusion  but  she  was  shocked 
a  little  to  realize  that  she  believed  him  instantly. 
Kimberly,  at  least  as  to  truthfulness,  had  won  her 
confidence.  Her  own  husband  had  forfeited  it. 
The  difficulty  now,  she  felt,  would  be  ever  to 
believe  him  at  all. 

"I  remember,"  she  assented  with  returning  cord 
iality.  "I  was  very  proud  to  listen  that  night." 

Kimberly  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  back  of  a 
chair.  "Lambert  is  a  brilliant  fellow." 

"Possibly;    my  sympathies  were  not  with  his 


views." 


" 


So  I  sit  here  r"  continued  Kimberly  patiently. 
"Who  sits  next  to  you  ?" 

"Your  brother." 

Kimberly  spoke  with  resignation.  "Charles 
always  had  the  luck  of  the  family." 

A  door  opened  and  a  butler  entered  the  room. 
On  seeing  Kimberly  he  attempted  to  withdraw. 

"Come  in,  Bell,"  said  Alice.     "What  is  it?" 

"The  juggler,  Mrs.  MacBirney;  his  assistant 
has  telephoned  they've  missed  their  train." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Oh,  Bell!"  exclaimed  his  mistress  in  indig 
nant  protest.  "Don't  tell  me  that." 

"And  it's  the  last  out,  till  ten-thirty  o'clock." 

Alice's  face  fell.  "That  ends  my  evening. 
Isn't  it  too  exasperating.  Stupid  jugglers!" 

Kimberly  intervened.  "What  train  did  he 
miss,  Bell?" 

"The  seven-ten,  sir,  from  town." 

"Why  don't  you  call  up  the  division  superin 
tendent  and  ask  his  office  to  stop  the  eight-ten  ?" 

Bell  looked  at  his  mistress.     "I  might  do  that, 


sir." 


"Oh,  can  you?"    cried  Alice. 

"You  ought  to  have  done  it  without  being  told, 
Bell,"  observed  Kimberly.  "You've  done  such 
things  before." 

"Might  I  use  your  name,  sir?" 

"Use  whatever  is  necessary  to  get  him.  And 
ask  them  to  hunt  up  the  juggler  in  the  waiting- 
room  and  put  him  aboard.  Wlio  is  he  ?" 

"A  China  boy,  sir,  I  understand." 

"In  that  case,  they  could  not  miss  him." 

The  butler  left  the  room.  "Do  you  think  they 
will  do  it  ?"  asked  Alice  anxiously. 

"Don't  give  it  further  thought.  We  could  get 
him  out  on  a  special  if  necessary." 

Voices  came  from  the  front  room.  Alice 
started  forward.  "There  are  guests/' 

176 


Robert  Kimberly 

"  By-the-way,"  added  Kimberly,  pointing  to  the 
card  on  his  cover  and  that  on  his  brother's,  "you 
don't  mind  my  correcting  this  mistake,  do  you  ?" 

Alice  looked  very  frankly  at  him,  for  the  success 
of  the  dinner  was  keenly  on  her  mind.  "You  will 
be  of  more  assistance,  Mr.  Kimberly,  if  you  will 
not  make  any  change.  Mrs.  Nelson  and  Mrs. 
Morgan  are  my  difficulties  and  I  hoped  you  would 
solve  them  for  me." 

"By  all  means." 

Dolly's  voice  was  heard  in  the  hall.  "Where  are 
you,  Alice  ?  Here  are  the  McCreas,  from  town, 
and  Doctor  Hamilton." 

They  sat  down  fourteen  at  the  table — the  Kim- 
berlys,  De  Castros,  Nelsons,  McCreas,  Hamilton, 
Miss  Venable,  and  Dora  Morgan. 

Alice  was  playing  to  the  enemy  and  meant  to 
demonstrate  to  the  Nelson  coterie  that  she  needed 
no  assistance  from  them  to  establish  herself  as  a 
hostess  at  Second  Lake.  If  she  wished,  on  this 
occasion,  for  a  great  success  it  was  hers.  The 
dinner  was  good,  and  the  moment  that  Nelson 
had  assured  himself  of  this  he  began  good- 
naturedly  to  help  things  on. 

A  remark  from  some  one  about  the  gulf  between 
law  and  justice  gave  him  a  chance.  "Why  asso 
ciate  the  two  at  all?"  he  asked  lazily.  "Law  is 
strictly  a  game  of  the  wits.  It  is  played  under  the 

177 


Robert  Kimberly 

convention  of  an  appeal  to  justice,  but  justice  is 
invoked  merely  to  satisfy  the  imagination.  If 
people  understood  this  there  would  be  no  com 
plaint  about  a  gulf  between  the  two.  We  imagine/ 
justice;  we  get  law.  Similarly,  we  imagine  heaven; 
we  get — what  we  deserve.  If  the  imagination  be 
satisfied,  man  will  endure  the  sweat  of  Sisyphus; 
most  of  us  suffer  it  in  this  world,  anyway.  Law 
and  justice  are  like  chemical  incompatibles  and 
there  must  be  a  gulf  between  them.  And  law  is 
no  better  and  no  worse  than  other  conventions 
of  society.  Who  that  studies  human  government 
in  any  form  has  ever  been  able  to  regard  it  other 
wise  than  with  contempt?" 

"Certainly,"  interposed  Fritzie  Venable,  with 
formal  irony.  "No  one  that  takes  care  of  the 
Kimberly  interests  at  Washington." 

"The  Kimberly  interests  at  Washington,"  re 
turned  Nelson  with  complaisance,  "are  so  well 
behaved  that  they  take  care  of  themselves." 

"Then  I  don't  see  what  contempt  you  should 
have  for  this  government,"  retorted  Fritzie  vigor 
ously. 

"Only  that  it  affords  him  no  adequate  exercise 
for  his  ingenuity,"  suggested  Arthur  De  Castro. 

"I  don't  care,"  protested  Fritzie;  "I  am  an 
American  and  I  won't  have  our  government  abused. 
I  believe  in  sticking  to  your  own." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Well,  if  we  haven't  stuck  to  our  own,  I  should 
like  to  know  who  has?"  observed  Charles  Kim 
berly  benevolently.  "We've  stuck  for  fifty  years 
to  our  tariff  builders,  as  Mustard  would  to  a  stot. 
MacBirney's  farmers  are  doing  the  work  for  us 
now,"  he  continued.  "Our  beet  growers  guard 
the  sugar  schedule  at  Washington.  These  won 
derful  Western  States;  lowest  in  illiteracy,  highest 
in  political  sagacity!  It  is  really  a  shame  to  take 
the  money." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  conscientiously  can  take 
it,"  declared  Hamilton,  appealing  to  Robert  Kim 
berly. 

"I  do  it  by  educating  my  conscience,  Doctor," 
responded  Robert  Kimberly.  "Every  one  that 
takes  the  trouble  to  inquire  knows  I  am  a  free 
trader.  I  abstain  from  the  Reform  Club,  but 
that  is  out  of  deference  to  my  partners.  I  con 
tribute  to  both  campaign  funds;  to  the  one  for 
our  shareholders,  to  the  other  for  my  conscience; 
for  as  I  say,  personally  I  am  a  free  trader." 

"And  a  tariff  beneficiary,"  added  Arthur  De 
Castro. 

"Why  not,  Arthur?  Wasn't  it  Disraeli  who 
said  sensible  men  are  all  of  one  religion  ?  He 
might  better  have  said,  sensible  men  are  all  of  one 
politics.  It  is  true,  we  are  tariff  beneficiaries,  but 
this  country  is  doing  business  under  a  protective 

179 


Robert  Kimberly 

theory.  We  are  engaged,  as  we  were  long  before 
there  was  a  tariff,  in  what  is  now  a  protected  in 
dustry.  We  can't  change  our  business  because 
the  government  changes  its  economic  policy. 

"And  if  anybody  is  to  have  protection  here, 
Arthur,  why  shouldn't  we  ?  Who  has  a  better 
right  to  it  ?  Our  warrants  of  occupation  were  ex 
torted  from  the  Iroquois.  We  fought  the  Indian, 

we  fought  the  French,  we  fought  the  English " 

"Was  there  anybody  you  didn't  fight  ?" 
"We  put  up  our  credit  in  Paris  and  Amsterdam 
for  the  colonies  and  for  the  Federal  Government 
when  the  colonies  and  the  Federal  Government 
had  none.  Then  along  comes  a  little  coterie  of 
steel  men  in  our  own  day,"  Kimberly  tossed  his 
head  with  disdainful  impatience,  "who  make  the 
toil  of  a  hundred  years  look  like  a  farce — out- 
Herod  Herod  in  protection  and  pile  up  hundreds 
of  millions  while  we  are  up  to  our  armpits  in  mo 
lasses  trying  to  grind  out  a  mere  living.  Pro 
tection!  We  don't  get  half  enough.  Who  has  any 
better  sanction  for  exercising  that  airy,  invisible 
pressure  of  a  tariff  tax?"  he  demanded,  lifting 
a  glass  of  wine  to  the  light. 

"Picturesque  old  pirate,"  murmured  Hamilton, 
"And  he   needs  the   money,"   commented   Dr. 
Castro.     "WThy  quarrel  with  him?" 

"I  am  sure  you  will  all  pledge  the  sugar  busi- 
180 


Robert  Kimberly 

ness,"  continued  Kimberly,  raising  a  refilled  glass 
blandly,  "and  join  me  in  welcoming  anybody  that 
wants  to  go  into  it.  This  is  a  free  country,  gen 
tlemen." 

"What  do  you  use  on  competitors,  the  rack  and 
dungeon  ?" 

"Nothing  that  savors  of  them." 

"But  you  take  care  of  competition,"  persisted 
Hamilton. 

Kimberly  laughed. 

"Certainly  we  do,"  interposed  McCrea,  quickly 
and  frankly.  "But  without  unnecessary  cruelty, 
as  Mr.  Robert  Kimberly  puts  it.  No  man  that 
ever  fought  the  company  and  had  horse-sense  has 
ever  starved  to  death.  We  can  use  such  a  man's 
talents  better  than  he  can,  and  very  often  he 
comes  into  camp  and  becomes  our  teacher;  that 
has  happened.  Our  system  of  combination  has 
brought  comforts  and  luxuries  into  thousands  of 
homes  that  never  would  have  known  them  under 
the  waste  of  competition.  Hundreds  and  thou 
sands  of  men  have  profited  by  uniting  their  efforts 
with  ours.  And  no  man  that  wasn't  a  business 
lunatic  has  ever  been  the  worse  for  anything  w^e've 
done." 

"Your  husband  talks  well,  Mrs.  McCrea," 
said  P^obert  Kimberly,  to  a  quiet  little  woman 
near  him. 

181 


Robert  Kimberly 

"He  has  had  able  teachers/'  laughed  Mrs. 
McCrea. 

"No,  it  is  because  he  believes  in  himself.  It's 
a  great  thing  to  be  able  to  believe  in  yourself." 

"Don't  you?" 

"Far  from  it." 

"  You've  made  a  good  many  others  believe  in 
you." 

"Not  always  for  their  own  best  interests,  I'm 
afraid." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Dolly  wras  saying  to  those  of 
the  women  who  were  listening  to  her,  "the  weight 
of  authority  is  against  me.  But  I  have  always 
held,  and  hold  yet,  that  a  simple  thing,  such  as 
lapis-lazuli,  is  best  set  in  gold — much  better  than 
in  silver.  Talk  with  Castellani  about  it  some 
time,  or  Viola." 

"Yes,  and  they'll  tell  you  silver,  every  time," 
interrupted  Fritzie  vigorously. 

Dolly  waved  her  hand  as  if  to  dismiss  contro 
versy. 

"Gold  is  so  common,"  objected  Lottie  Nelson. 

"Not  more  so  than  lapis,"  retorted  Dolly. 

"But  isn't  that  the  glory  of  gold,"  suggested 
Robert,  "that  it  is  common?  It  has  the  seal  of 
approval  of  mankind;  what  higher  sanction  do  you 
want  ?  You  are  always  safe  in  resting  with  that 
approval.  I  believe  in  common  things — pearls  for 

182 


Robert  Kimberly 

example  and  rubies.  I  am  just  common  enough 
to  like  them." 

Bell,  passing  behind  his  mistress,  spoke  in  her 
ear.  Alice's  face  lighted  and  she  caught  Kimber- 
ly's  eye.  "He  is  here,"  she  nodded  laughingly 
across  the  table. 

The  juggler  had  come  and  as  the  dessert  was 
being  served  he  followed  a  butler  into  the  room 
in  his  native  robes  and  assumed  his  place  as  one 
of  Bell's  assistants.  The  Chinaman  was  hand 
some  and  of  great  size  and  strength.  Alice  only 
hinted  to  her  guests  what  awkwardness  might  be 
looked  for  from  the  new  footman,  and  the  juggler 
smiling  in  Oriental  silence  began  to  cajole  the 
senses  of  his  spectators. 

After  he  had  amused  them  with  trifles  he  floated 
a  gossamer  veil  of  yellow  silk  over  a  huge  glass 
bowl  filled  with  fruit  from  a  serving  table.  With 
this  in  his  hands  he  hastened  to  the  fireplace  at 
the  end  of  the  room  and  turning  heaved  the  bowl 
swiftly  toward  the  ceiling,  catching  it  in  his  arms 
as  it  descended  filled  with  quivering  goldfish 
swimming  in  water  of  crystal  clearness. 

He  took  oranges  from  the  side  tables  and,  split 
ting  them,  released  song-birds  into  the  air.  The 
guests  tossed  fruit  at  him,  and  from  apples  and 
pomegranates  he  cut  favors  for  them — jewelled 
stick-pins,  belt  agraffes  and  Florentine  bonbon- 


Robert  Kimberly 

ieres.  When  the  evening  was  over  Alice  thanked 
her  guests  for  their  compliments.  Lottie  Nelson's 
words  in  particular  left  a  flush  of  triumph  in 
Alice's  cheeks  and  she  looked  so  happy  that  Kim 
berly  paused  before  he  spoke. 

"Well?"  said  Alice  questioningly.  And  then: 
"If  you  have  had  a  good  time,  don't  be  afraid  to 
say  so." 

He  looked  at  her  as  if  pleased  at  her  fervor. 
"Are  you  a  little  bit  sorry?"  he  asked  quizzically. 

Her  brows  rose  with  a  pretty  assumption  of 
ignorance.  "I  have  nothing  to  be  sorry  for." 

"Then  I  suppose  I  must  have." 

She  dropped  her  eyes  for  a  moment  to  her 
sandalwood  fan.  "Of  course,  you  will  decide 
that." 

"I  presume,"  he  continued,  taking  the  fan 
without  apology  from  her  hands,  "I  may  come 
over  when  you  are  not  at  home  and  look  at  your 
portrait?" 

"I  am  sure  you  don't  realize  how  silly  that 
sounds.  I  hear  you  have  a  new  picture,"  she 
added,  looking  up. 

"It  is  to  be  hung  next  week.  MacBirney  is  to 
bring  you  over  to  see  it.  Are  you  sorry  I  came  ?" 

"Oh,  is  that  what  you  meant?  Why,  such  a 
question!  You  saved  my  evening." 

"But  are  you  sorry?" 
184 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I  shouldn't  say  so  if  I  were,  should  I  ?" 

"No,  but  answer,  anyway." 

Her  expression  of  vexation  was  pleasing.  "  How 
obstinate!  No,  then.  And  you  saved  my  even 
ing  besides." 

"You  must  take  me  as  I  am." 

"You  cannot,  I  know,  be  less  than  you  should 
be." 

"How  about  you  ?" 

She  drew  herself  up  the  least  bit.  "I  hope  no 
friend  of  mine  would  wish  me  anything  less." 

"We  are  both  then  to  be  all  we  should  be." 

"Don't  you  think  I  am  very  patient?"  she  de 
manded  impatiently. 

"You  are.     We  are  both  to  be,  aren't  we  ?" 

She  did  not  conceal  her  annoyance.  "I  sin 
cerely  trust  so,"  she  said  coldly.  "But  there  is  a 
limit  to  all  things." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  "T>ank  you  for  a  de 
lightful  evening." 


185 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  new  picture  at  The  Towers  made  a 
topic  of  interest  among  Kimberly's  friends, 
but  Alice  found  excuses  for  not  going  to  see  it 
until  MacBirney  would  brook  no  further  delays. 
They  drove  over  one  afternoon  and  found  Doctor 
Hamilton  and  Imogene  in  the  library.  Robert 
Kimberly  came  downstairs  with  Charles  and 
greeted  the  MacBirneys.  Tea  was  brought  pres 
ently  and  Kimberly  asked  Alice  to  pour  it. 

"I  haven't  seen  you  since  your  dinner,"  said  he, 
sitting  down  after  a  time  by  Alice.  "You  were 
indisposed  the  day  I  called.  Imogene  tells  me  you 
intend  spending  the  winter  in  town." 

"Mr.  MacBirney  wants  to." 

"I  hoped  you  would  winter  in  the  country." 

"I  like  the  country,  but  Mr.  MacBirney  likes 
the  town.  I  shall  enjoy  it,  too.  You  know  we 
are  really  country  folk  and  haven't  had  as  much 
town  life  as  you  have." 

The  others  started  for  the  east  room.  "Come," 
said  Dolly,  beckoning  Alice,  "you  want  to  see  the 
Rubens." 

186 


Robert  Kimberly 

The  new  picture  was  hung  as  a  panel  between 
a  smaller  Rubens  and  an  unknown  head  of  the 
Virgin,  in  the  manner  of  Botticelli.  Kimberly 
seated  Alice  apart  from  the  others  and  stood  be 
hind  her. 

"You  have  been  in  this  room  before  ?"  he  said 
questioningly. 

"Once  before.  It  is  very  much  richer  now." 
She  indicated  the  new  picture  as  she  spoke,  a 
large  canvas  of  the  Crucifixion.  "There  are  two 
titles  for  it,"  explained  Kimberly,  "a  Latin  and 
a  Dutch.  I  like  the  Dutch  best:  'The  Ninth 
Hour.'  This  picture  doesn't  appeal  so  much  to 
my  friends  as  it  has  appealed  to  me.  But  see 
wThat  this  master  magician  has  chosen  here;  the 
supreme  moment  of  the  Crucifixion." 

Those  with  them  were  chatting  apart.  Alice 
sat  in  silence  while  Kimberly  spoke  and  when 
he  had  done  they  were  silent  together.  "I 
hope  you  are  going  to  like  it,"  he  said  after  a 
pause. 

MacBirney  asked  a  question,  and  Kimberly 
wralked  to  where  he  was  seated.  When  he  came 
back  he  seemed  unable  to  wait  longer  for  Alice's 
comment.  "What  is  the  verdict?" 

"Nothing  I  have  ever  seen  of  Rubens's  leaves 
me  unmoved,"  she  answered.  "This  is  almost 
overwhelming,  terrible." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Mrs.  MacBirney  likes  my  'Crucifixion,'  Dolly," 
observed  Kimberly  after  another  silence. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  quote  Alice,"  exclaimed  Dolly 
from  a  window  seat.  "So  do  I  like  it.  All  I 
said  was,  that  it  is  a  sin  to  pay  so  much  for  a 
picture." 

"No  price  is  too  great  for  a  great  inspiration. 
See,"  he  pointed  for  Alice  to  the  face  of  a  Roman 
soldier  cowering  in  the  foreground  of  the  canvas. 
"There  is  one  man's  face.  Hamilton  has  studied 
a  good  many  pictures  and  watched  unnumbered 
faces  in  every  expression  of  suffering.  He  has 
told  me  that,  so  far  as  he  knows  pictures,  the  emo 
tion  of  fear  has  never  been  depicted  on  the  hu 
man  countenance  except  in  that  face.  As  a  great 
surgeon,  of  a  very  wide  experience,  he  may  be  said 
to  know  what  fear  pictured  on  a  human  face 
should  be.  And  there  it  is  before  us.  Conceive 
what  a  triumph  for  that  man  to  have  achieved 
this,  so  far  from  us  in  the  dead  centuries,  and  yet 
so  near  to  us  in  this  magic  of  his  skill.  Observe 
what  a  background  he  has  chosen  to  depict  it 
from — Jerusalem,  bathed  in  the  uncanny,  terrify 
ing  light  that  accompanies  a  convulsion  of  nature. 
The  earth  rent,  the  dead  issuing  from  their  graves, 
nature  prostrate,  and  everywhere — brooding  over 
everything,  but  stamped  most  of  all  on  this  one 
guilty  face — fear.  How  it  all  builds  up  the  agony 

188 


Robert  Kimberly 

of  that  death  sweat  on  the  cross!  By  Heaven, 
it  is  tremendous!  And  Dolly  says  it  is  a  sin  to 
spend  so  much  money  for  it.  Brother  Francis 
doesn't  agree  with  her;  I  found  him  in  here  early 
one  morning  saying  his  prayers  to  it." 

"Before  it,"  said  Alice  instantly. 

"I  thought  that  no  mean  tribute.  Frankly,  do 
you  think  me  extravagant?" 

"Did  you  really  pay  the  price  named  in  the 
newspapers  ?" 

"Even  then?" 

"It  does  take  one's  breath  away — at  least,  it 
took  mine." 

"I  have  wanted  this  picture  for  years.  Ham 
ilton  made  one  trip  over  with  me  to  look  at  it — 
he  told  me  of  it  first.  Then  I  had  to  wait  all  these 
years  for  the  opportunity  to  acquire  it." 

"What  patience!" 

His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  picture.  "It  must 
have  taken  patience  to  paint  it.  But  patience 
gives  us  everything  in  this  life."  Alice  was  silent. 
"You  don't  agree  with  me?" 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"I  feel  it;  the  air  is  thick  with  your  dissent. 
But,  Alice,  I  am  right  and  you  are  wrong." 

Her  name  coming  so  suddenly  and  for  the  first 
time  from  his  lips  astonished  her.  Her  heart 
sent  its  blood  in  protest  to  her  very  ears.  In  a 

189 


Robert  Kimberly 

room  with  other  people  nothing  could  be  said. 
But  she  rose  and  turning  from  Kimberly  called 
to  her  husband,  asking  if  he  were  ready. 

"Before  you  go  I  have  a  favor  to  ask,"  said 
Kimberly,  intervening,  and  Kimberly's  petitions 
had  always  something  of  the  color  of  command. 
"I  told  you,"  he  said,  speaking  to  Alice,  "of  my 
mother's  portrait.  It  is  upstairs;  will  you  come 
see  it?" 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  see  it.  Come, 
Walter,"  she  held  out  her  hand  for  her  husband. 
"Mr.  Kimberly  wants  us  to  see  his  mother's  por 


trait." 


Kimberly  made  no  comment,  but  the  manner 
with  which  he  paused,  waiting  for  MacBirney  to 
join  them,  sufficiently  indicated  that  he  was  con 
scious  of  waiting.  When  MacBirney  noticed  his 
attitude  he  moved  from  those  he  was  with  much 
more  quickly  than  he  would  have  done  at  his 
wife's  behest.  Dolly  came  with  MacBirney  and 
the  four  walked  upstairs.  Kimberly's  rooms 
opened  to  the  south.  There  were  five  in  the 
apartment  and  while  Kimberly  excused  himself  to 
take  MacBirney  in  for  a  moment  to  speak  to  his 
uncle,  Dolly  took  Alice  through  Kimberly's  suite. 

"These  rooms  are  charming!"  exclaimed  Alice, 
when  the  men  came  in  to  them.  "You  must  see 
them,  Walter.  The  breakfast  room  is  dear." 

190 


Robert  Kimberly 

They  were  standing  in  the  library,  which  served 
as  a  writing  room  and  a  conference  room.  It  was 
finished  in  oak  and  on  the  east  the  breakfast  room 
opened,  in  white  and  green. 

Alice  took  her  husband's  arm.  "See,  Walter," 
she  said  passing  through  the  open  door;  "isn't 
this  darling  ?  These  tones  must  be  restful  to  wake 
to!" 

"I  had  lunch  here  once/'  announced  MacBirney 
in  his  choppy  way.  "With  you  and  your  brother 
and  McCrea,"  he  added,  turning  to  Kimberly. 

"You  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  seeing 
such  a  pretty  place,"  remarked  his  wife. 

"You've  been  in  the  west  room?"  asked  Kim 
berly. 

"Yes,  Alice  sang  for  me  while  you  were  with 
Uncle  John,"  responded  Dolly. 

"I  thought  I  heard  music,"  remarked  Kimberly, 
looking  at  Alice.  "What  did  you  sing?" 

"I  only  hummed  an  old  air." 

Kimberiy  tried  to  get  her  to  go  back  to  the  piano 
but  could  not.  "I  miss  music  keenly,"  he  said, 
"I  wish  I  could  make  a  contract  with  you  to 
sing  here  every  day." 

Alice  laughed. 

"You  would  be  in  very  good  company,"  in 
terposed  Dolly.  "Some  famous  artistes  have 
sung  at  that  piano.  Robert,"  she  added,  as  the 

191 


Robert  Kimberly 

two  women  walked  toward  his  dressing-room, 
"has  everything  here  but  what  he  ought  to  have 
— a  wife.  When  mother  lived,  The  Towers  was 
more  than  a  habitation — it  was  a  home." 

In  his  bedroom,  Kimberly  indicated  a  portrait 
above  the  fireplace.  "This  is  my  mother,"  he 
said  to  Alice.  "Sit  down  for  just  a  moment — I 
want  you  to  like  her." 

"I  like  her  very  much,  already,"  returned  Alice. 
"But  I  should  like  to  sit  a  moment  to  enjoy 
the  portrait.  I  wish  I  could  have  known  your 
mother." 

"This  room  I  fancy  best  of  them  all,"  Dolly  was 
saying  to  MacBirney  as  they  walked  on.  "All 
of  this  wall  panelling  and  ceiling  was  made  from 
one  mahogany  log  brought  up  from  Santo  Domin 
go  many  years  ago  with  a  cargo  of  sugar." 

Kimberly,  sitting  with  Alice  before  his  mother's 
picture,  showed  a  self-consciousness  he  did  not 
often  betray,  a  solicitude,  seemingly,  that  Alice 
should  agree  with  his  own  estimate  of  his  mother. 
'She  was  the  most  tender,  kindly  woman  in  the 
world,"  he  said  after  a  moment. 

"Such  a  mother  ought  to  be  an  inspiration  to 
you  for  everything  high  and  good,  Mr.  Kimberly." 

"Yet  I  have  never  reached  anything  high  and 
good." 

"Sometime  you  will." 

192 


Robert  Kimberly 

He  looked  at  her  curiously.  "Do  you  really 
think  that?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  And  thank  you  for  letting  me  see 
your  mother." 

"If  you  only  could  have  met  her!"  There  was 
an  intensity  of  regret  in  his  words.  "It  was  a 
tragedy  for  such  a  woman  to  die  young.  I  have 
long  wanted  you  to  see  her  portrait;  you  con 
stantly  make  me  think  of  her,  Alice." 

She  turned  calmly  and  frankly.  "It  is  most 
kind  of  you  to  say  that,  Mr.  Kimberly.  So  kind 
that  I  am  going  to  be  bold  enough  to  ask  a 
favor." 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  ask,  but  I  wish 
you  wouldn't.  I  want  very  much  to  do  what  you 
are  about  to  ask  me  not  to  do " 

"  It  is  almost  nothing — only  not  to  call  me  Alice." 

"There  is  no  use  my  asking  a  favor,  is  there  ?" 
He  turned  with  almost  a  boyish  humor  in  his 
manner.  His  mother's  eyes  seemed  to  look  at 
her  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

"Not,  Mr.  Kimberly,  this  time.  I  want  you  to 
oblige  me." 

"You  are  afraid  of  me."  There  was  no  re 
sentment  in  the  words;  nothing  beyond  a  regret. 

Her  answer  was  low  but  neither  weak  nor  con 
fused.  "Is  it  quite  generous,  Mr.  Kimberly — 
here?" 

193 


Robert  Kimberly 

"No,"  he  answered  in  the  same  even  voice,  "it 
is  not.  Unhappily,  there  are  times  when  gener 
osity  is  weakness.  I've  been  trying  ever  since  I 
have  known  you  to  think  of  you  just  as  I  think  of 
myself.  I  believe  I  have  tried  to  give  you  a  little 
the  best  of  it — yet  a  selfish  man  can't  always  be 
sure  of  doing  that." 

"I  trust  you  think  of  me,"  she  responded, 
"only  as  one  of  the  least  important  among  your 
friends." 

"You  are  afraid  of  me.  And  yet  I  want  your 
confidence  above  everything  in  this  world — and  I 
must  in  some  way  deserve  and  win  it." 

"I  do  wish  you  would  not  say  these  things.  I 
have  to  try  very  hard  not  to  dislike  you  exceed 
ingly  when  you  speak  in  this  way." 

"You  do  dislike  me  exceedingly  when  I  speak 
in  this  way.  I  know  it  perfectly." 

If  her  voice  trembled  the  least  bit  it  was  with 
indignation.  "I  sometimes  ask  myself  whether  I 
should  suffer  it  even  for  my  husband's  sake. 
You  wTill  force  me  to  do  something  unpleasant,  I 
fear." 

"I  never  will  force  you  to  do  anything.  I  do 
want  to  call  you  Alice.  But  don't  hate  me  for 
that." 

She  heard  with  relief  Dolly  talking  to  her  hus 
band  in  the  doorway.  "  It  was  almost  three  years 

194 


Robert  Kimberly 

before  Imogene  saw  Charles  again/'  Alice  heard 
Dolly  say,  "and,  would  you  believe  it,  he  began 
exactly  where  he  left  off.  After  that  Imogene  de 
cided  it  was  of  no  use.  So,  she  is  Mrs.  Kimberly!" 

"By  Jove'  He  had  patience,"  laughed  Mac- 
Birney. 

Dolly  laughed  a  little,  too.  "That  is  the  only 
exasperating  thing  about  the  Kimberly  men — their 
patience." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MACBIRNEY'S  decision  to  spend  the  winter 
in  town  became  very  "welcome  to  Alice; 
the  atmosphere  within  a  wide  radius  of  The  Towers 
seemed  too  charged  with  electricity  for  mental 
peace.  And  her  husband,  having  tasted  for  the 
first  time  the  excitement  of  the  stock  markets, 
desired  to  be  near  his  brokers. 

Fritzie,  who  was  an  authority  in  town  affairs, 
made  it  easy  for  Alice  to  find  acceptable  quarters. 
In  general  the  Second  Lake  people  cared  less  and 
less  for  opening  their  town  houses.  Robert  Kim- 
berly's  house,  while  nominally  open,  never  saw  its 
master.  Charles  and  Imogene  Kimberly  for  sev 
eral  years  had  spent  their  winters  cruising  and 
now  made  ready  to  take  Grace  De  Castro  to  the 
eastern  Mediterranean.  Arthur  and  Dolly  were 
to  winter  at  Biarritz  and  join  Charles  and  Imogene 
in  Sicily  on  their  return  from  the  Levant.  Fritzie 
accepted  Alice's  invitation  to  spend  the  season  in 
town  with  her.  Dora  Morgan  had  already  gone 
to  Paris  for  an  indefinite  stay  and  the  Nelsons, 
Congress  being  in  session,  were  starting  for  Wash 
ington. 


Robert  Kimberly 

MacBirney  came  over  to  The  Towers  just  be 
fore  leaving  with  Alice  for  town  to  see  Robert 
Kimberly.  When  Kimberly  asked  him  what  was 
on  his  mind,  "I  would  like  to  know,"  MacBirney 
answered  frankly,  "what  I  can  make  some  money 
in  this  winter."  It  was  the  second  time  he  had 
brought  the  subject  up  and  Kimberly  who  had 
once  evaded  his  inquiries  saw  that  nothing  was  to 
be  gained  by  further  effort  in  that  direction. 

Kimberly  regarded  him  gravely.  "Buy  stand 
ard  railway  shares,"  he  suggested,  "on  a  four-and- 
a-half-per-cent  average." 

"But  I  want  to  do  better  than  four-and-a-half- 
per-cent.  It  costs  something  to  live." 

"I  mean,  you  would  have  your  profit  in  the 
advances.  But  your  present  income  ought  to 
cover  a  very  liberal  scale  of  living,"  said  Kim 
berly. 

MacBirney  squirmed  in  his  chair.  Kimberly 
would  have  preferred  he  should  sit  still.  "That 
is  true,"  assented  MacBirney,  with  smiling  candor, 
"but  a  poor  man  doesn't  want  to  spend  all  his 
money.  Isn't  there  a  chance,"  he  asked,  coming 
to  the  point  in  his  mind,  "to  make  some  money 
in  our  own  stock  ?  I  have  heard  a  rumor  there 
would  be,  but  I  can't  run  it  down." 

"There  are  always  chances  if  you  are  closely 
enough  in  touch  with  general  conditions.  Charles 

197 


Robert  Kimberly 

keeps  better  track  of  those  things  than  I  do; 
suppose  you  talk  with  him." 

"Charles  sends  me  to  you,"  protested  Mac- 
Birney  good  naturedly. 

"Our  shares  seem  just  now  to  be  one  of  the 
speculative  favorites,"  returned  Kimberly.  "That 
means,  as  you  know,  violent  fluctuations." 

MacBirney  was  impatient  of  hazards.  "Put 
me  next  on  any  one  of  your  own  plans,  Mr.  Kim 
berly,  that  you  might  feel  like  trusting  me  with," 
said  MacBirney,  jocularly. 

"I  don't  often  have  any  speculative  schemes 
of  my  own,"  returned  Kimberly.  "However," 
he  hesitated  a  moment;  MacBirney  leaned  for 
ward.  "Doane,"  continued  Kimberly  abruptly, 
"has  a  strong  party  interested  now  in  putting  up 
the  common.  They  profess  to  think  that  on  its 
earnings  it  should  sell  higher.  In  fact,  they  have 
sounded  me  about  an  extra  dividend.  I  am  op 
posed  to  that — until  Congress  adjourns,  at  any 
rate.  But  the  company  is  making  a  great  deal  of 
money.  I  can't  uncover  Doahe's  deal,  but  J  can 
say  this  to  you:  I  have  agreed  to  help  them  as 
much  as  I  safely  can.  By  that,  I  mean,  that 
their  speculative  interests  must  always  come 
second  to  the  investment  interests  of  our  share 
holders." 

"By  Jove,  I  wish  I  could  get  in  on  a  move- 


Robert  Kimberly 

ment  like  that,  Mr.  Kimberly.    With  you  behind 
it " 

"I  am  not  behind  it — only  not  opposed  to  it. 
For  my  part,  I  never  advise  any  one  to  speculate 
in  our  securities.  I  can't  do  it.  I  do  business 
with  speculators,  but  I  never  speculate  myself. 
You  don't  credit  that,  do  you  ?  What  I  mean  is 
this:  I  never  take  chances.  If  it  is  necessary, 
for  cogent  reasons,  to  move  our  securities  up  or 
down,  I  am  in  a  position  to  do  so  without  taking 
any  extreme  chances.  That  is  natural,  isn't  it  ?" 

MacBirney  laughed  and  swayed  in  his  chair. 
"I'd  like  to  be  fixed  that  way  for  just  one  year 
of  my  life!"  he  exclaimed. 

"If  you  were  you  would  find  plenty  of  other 
things  to  engage  your  attention." 

"Well,  can  you  do  anything  for  me  on  this 
present  deal  ?" 

Kimberly  reflected  a  moment.  "Yes,"  he  said 
finally,  "if  you  will  operate  through  the  brokers  I 
name  and  do  exactly  as  I  say,  and  run  the  risk  of 
losing  half  the  money  you  put  up — I  don't  see 
how  you  could  lose  more  than  that.  But  if  you 
don't  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you,  without  question, 
you  might  lose  a  great  deal  more.  I  am  not  sup 
posing,  of  course,  that  you  would  risk  more  than 
you  could  afford  to  lose." 

"Not  at  all.     I  want  to  play  safe." 
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Robert  Kimberly 

"  Place  your  orders  to-day  and  to-morrow  then 
for  what  common  you  can  carry.  Hamilton  will 
let  you  have  what  money  you  need — or  he  will  get 
it  for  you.  Then  forget  all  about  your  investment 
until  I  tell  you  to  sell.  Don't  question  the  advice, 
but  get  out  promptly  at  that  moment  no  matter 
what  you  hear  or  what  the  market  looks  like. 
Can  you  do  that  ?  And  keep  your  own  counsel  ?" 

"Trust  me/' 

"Good  luck  then.  And  if  it  should  come  bad, 
try  not  to  feel  incensed  at  me,"  concluded  Kim 
berly,  rising. 

"Surely  not!"   exclaimed  MacBirney. 

Kimberly  smiled.  "But  you  will,  just  the  same. 
At  least,  that  is  my  experience." 

"What  about  the  winter,  Mr.  Kimberly — are 
you  going  in  town  ?" 

"I  haven't  decided." 

But  although  Kimberly  had  made  no  decision 
he  had  made  vague  promises  to  every  one.  With 
Charles  he  talked  about  putting  his  own  yacht 
into  commission,  taking  Larrie  from  the  refineries 
for  a  breathing  spell  and  meeting  Charlie's  party 
in  February  at  Taormina.  He  discussed  with 
Dolly  a  shorter  vacation,  one  of  taking  passage  to 
Cherbourg,  motoring  with  Arthur  and  herself 
across  France  and  meeting  Charles  at  Nice,  whence 
all  could  come  home  together. 

200 


Robert  Kimberly 

The  Nelsons  left  the  lake  last.  Lottie  gave 
Kimberly  a  parting  thrust  as  she  said  good-by, 
delivering  it  in  such  a  way  that  she  hoped  to  up 
set  him.  "So  you  are  in  love  with  Alice  Mac 
Birney?"  she  said  smilingly. 

Kimberly  looked  frankly  into  her  clear,  sen 
suous  eyes.  "What  put  that  into  your  head, 
Lottie?" 

She  laughed  unsympathetically.  "I'm  glad 
you've  got  some  one  this  time  that  will  make  you 
do  the  walking — not  one  like  the  rest  of  us  poor 


creatures." 


"Why  do  you  talk  about  'this  time,'  and  'us 
poor  creatures'  ?  Let  me  tell  you  something." 

"Do,  so  I  can  tell  it  to  Alice." 

"You  may  at  any  time  tell  Mrs.  MacBirney 
anything  I  say.  It  is  this:  if  I  should  ever  find  a 
woman  to  love,  I  expect  to  do  the  walking.  Tell 
her  that,  will  you  ?  I  respect  Mrs.  MacBirney  very 
highly  and  admire  her  very  much — is  that  clear  ? 
But  that  is  far  from  outraging  her  feelings  by 
coupling  her  name  with  mine  or  mine  with  hers. 
Don't  do  that.  I  will  never  forgive  it."  She 
had  never  seen  him  so  angry. 

He  realized  more  than  once  during  the  long 
winter  that  the  slighted  woman  had  told  him  only 
the  truth.  But  from  her  it  was  an  impertinent 
truth.  And  it  galled  him  to  be  forced  to  admit 

201 


Robert  Kimberly 

to  the  loose-thinking  members  of  his  own  set  what 
he  felt  toward  Alice. 

Meantime,  he  spent  the  whole  winter  at  The 
Towers  with  Uncle  John,  the  tireless  Francis, 
and  his  own  unruly  thoughts.  His  time  went  to 
conferences  with  his  city  associates,  infrequent  in 
spections  of  the  refineries,  horseback  rides  over  the 
winter  landscape,  and  to  winter  sunsets  watched 
alone  from  the  great  western  windows. 

In  town  Alice  found  Fritzie  an  admirable  guide. 

"I  try,"  said  Fritzie  calmly,  answering  one  of 
Alice's  jests  at  her  wide  acquaintance,  "to  move 
with  the  best.  I  suppose  in  heaven  we  shall 
encounter  all  sorts.  And  if  we  don't  cultivate 
the  elect  here  we  may  never  have  another  chance 


to." 


"You  are  far-sighted,  Fritzie  dear,"  smiled 
Alice.  "What  I  can't  understand  is,  why  you 
don't  marry." 

"I  have  too  many  rich  relations.  I  couldn't 
marry  anybody  in  their  class.  I  should  have  to 
pick  up  with  some  wretched  millionaire  and  be 
reduced  to  misery.  The  Lord  deliver  us  from 
people  that  watch  their  incomes — they  are  the 
limit.  And  it  must,  I  have  always  thought,  be 
terrible,  Alice,  to  live  with  a  man  that  has  made 
a  million  honestly.  He  would  be  so  mean.  Of 
course,  we  are  mean,  too;  but  happily  a  good 

202 


Robert  Kimberly 

part  of  our  meannesses  are  underground — buried 
with  our  ancestors." 

Fritzie's  light  words  struck  home  with  an  un 
suspected  force.  Alice  knew  Fritzie  had  no 
thought  of  painting  MacBirney;  it  was  only 
Alice  herself  who  recognized  her  husband's  por 
trait. 

Fritzie  certainly  had,  as  she  admitted,  an  appe 
tite  for  the  luxurious  and  even  MacBirney  liked 
her  novel  extravagances.  In  their  few  resting 
hours  the  two  women  talked  of  Second  Lake. 
"Fritzie,"  said  Alice  one  night  when  they  were 
together  before  the  fire,  "the  first  time  I  met  you, 
you  said  every  one  at  Second  Lake  was  contented, 
with  two  exceptions.  You  were  one;  who  was 
the  other?" 

"Robert,  dear.  He  is  the  most  discontented 
mortal  alive.  Isn't  it  all  a  strange  world  ?" 

Alice,  too,  had  thoughts  that  winter,  but  they 
were  confused  thoughts  and  not  always  to  be  tol 
erated.  She,  likewise,  was  beginning  to  think  it 
a  strange  world. 

MacBirney,  guided  by  McCrea,  followed  the 
pool  operations  with  sleepless  vigilance.  They 
reached  their  height  when  Congress  adjourned 
early  without  disturbing  the  tariff.  The  street 
saw  enormous  gains  ahead  for  the  crowd  operat 
ing  in  the  Kimberly  stocks  and  with  public  buy- 

203 


Robert  Kimberly 

ing  underway  the  upward  movement  in  the  share* 
took  on  renewed  strength. 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  of  the  adjournment 
of  Congress  that  Kimberly  sent  McCrea  to  Mao 
Birney  with  directions  to  sell,  and  explicitly  as  to 
how  and  through  whom  to  sell.  MacBirney,  to 
McCrea's  surprise,  demurred  at  the  advice  and 
argued  that  if  he  dropped  out  now  he  should 
lose  the  best  profits  of  the  venture, 

McCrea  consented  to  talk  to  Kimberly  again. 
Doane,  the  Hamilton  banking  interests  and  their 
associates  were  still  ostensibly  buying  and  were 
talking  even  higher  prices.  It  did  not  look  right 
to  MacBirney  to  sell  under  such  circumstances 
but  McCrea  came  back  the  very  next  day  with 
one  word:  "Sell."  No  reasons,  no  explana 
tions  were  given,  nothing  vouchsafed  but  a  curt 
command. 

MacBirney,  doubtful  and  excited,  consulted 
Alice,  to  whom  indeed,  in  serious  perplexity,  he 
often  turned.  Knowing  nothing  about  the  situa 
tion,  she  advised  him  to  do  precisely  as  Kimberly 
directed  and  to  do  so  without  loss  of  time.  He 
was  still  stubborn.  No  one  but  himself  knew 
that  he  was  carrying  twice  the  load  of  stock  he 
had  any  right  to  assume,  and  battling  thus  between 
greed  and  prudence  he  reluctantly  placed  the  sell 
ing  orders. 

204 


Robert  Kimberly 

Just  as  he  had  gotten  fairly  out  of  it,  the  market, 
to  his  mortification,  advanced.  A  few  days  later 
it  ran  quite  away.  Huge  blocks  of  stock  thrown 
into  it  made  hardly  any  impression.  The  market, 
as  MacBirney  had  predicted,  continued  strong. 
At  the  end  of  the  "week  he  felt  sure  that  Kimberly 
had  tricked  him,  and  in  spite  of  winning  more 
money  than  he  had  ever  made  in  his  life  he  was 
in  bad  humor.  Kimberly  himself  deigned  no 
word  of  enlightenment.  McCrea  tried  to  ex 
plain  to  MacBirney  that  the  public  had  run  away 
with  the  market — as  it  sometimes  did.  But  Mac 
Birney  nursed  resentment. 

The  Nelsons  came  over  from  Washington  that 
week — it  was  Holy  Week — for  the  opera  and  the 
week-end,  and  MacBirney  asked  his  wife  to  en 
tertain  them,  together  with  Lambert,  at  dinner 
on  Friday  night. 

Alice  fought  the  proposal,  but  MacBirney  could 
not  be  moved.  She  endeavored  to  have  the  date 
changed  to  Easter  Sunday;  MacBirney  was  re 
lentless.  He  knew  it  was  Good  Friday  and  that 
his  wife  was  trying  to  avoid  entertaining  during 
the  evening.  But  he  thought  it  an  opportunity 
to  discipline  her.  Alice  sent  out  her  invitations 
and  they  were  accepted.  No  such  luck,  she  knew, 
as  a  declination  would  be  hers. 

Lottie,  amusing  herself  for  the  winter  with 
205 


Robert  Kimberly 

Lambert,  was  in  excellent  humor.  But  Alice  was 
nervous  and  everything  went  wrong.  They  rose 
from  the  table  to  go  to  the  opera,  where  Nelson 
had  the  Robert  Kimberly  box.  Alice  seeking  the 
retirement  of  an  easy-chair  gave  her  attention  to 
the  stage  and  to  her  own  thoughts.  In  neither  did 
she  find  anything  satisfying.  Mrs.  Nelson,  too 
talkative  with  the  men,  was  a  mild  irritation  to  her, 
and  of  all  nights  in  the  year  this  was  the  last  on 
which  Alice  would  have  wished  to  be  at  the  opera. 
It  was  only  one  more  link  in  the  long  chain  of  sac 
rifices  she  wore  for  domestic  peace,  but  to-night  her 
gyves  lay  heavy  on  her  wrists.  She  realized  that 
she  was  hardly  amiable.  This  box  she  was  enjoy 
ing  the  seclusion  of,  brought  Kimberly  close  to  her. 
The  difference  there  would  be  within  it  if  he 
himself  were  present,  suggested  itself  indolently 
to  her  in  her  depression.  How  loath,  she  re 
flected,  Kimberly  would  have  been  to  drag  her 
out  when  she  wished  to  be  at  home.  It  was  not 
the  first  time  that  she  had  compared  him  with  her 
husband,  but  this  was  the  first  time  she  was  con 
scious  of  having  done  so.  All  they  were  enjoy 
ing  was  his;  yet  she  knew  he  would  have  been 
indifferent  to  everything  except  what  she  pre 
ferred. 

And  it  was  not  alone  what  he  had  indicated  in 
deferring  to  her  wishes;   it  was  what  he  often  did 

206 


Robert  Kimberly 

in  deferring  in  indifferent  things  to  the  wishes  of 
others  that  had  impressed  itself  upon  her  more 
than  any  trait  in  his  character.  How  much  happier 
she  should  be  if  her  own  husband  were  to  show  a 
mere  trace  of  such  a  disposition,  she  felt  past  even 
the  possibility  of  telling  him;  it  seemed  too  use 
less.  He  could  not  be  made  to  understand. 

For  supper  the  party  went  with  Nelson.  The 
gayety  of  the  others  left  Alice  cold.  Nelson,  with 
the  art  of  the  practised  entertainer,  urged  the  eat 
ing  and  drinking,  and  when  the  party  left  the 
buzzing  cafe  some  of  them  were  heated  and  unre 
strained.  At  two  o'clock,  Alice  with  her  husband 
and  Fritzie  reached  their  apartment,  and  Alice, 
very  tired,  went  directly  to  her  own  rooms.  Mac- 
Birney  came  in,  somewhat  out  of  humor.  "What's 
the  matter  with  you  to-night?"  he  demanded. 
Alice  had  dismissed  Annie  and  her  husband  sat 
down  beside  her  table. 

"With  me?     Nothing,  Walter;   why?" 

"You  acted  so  cattish  all  the  evening,"  he  com 
plained,  with  an  irritating  little  oath. 

Alice  was  in  no  mood  to  help  him  along.  "How 
so?"  she  asked  tying  her  hair  as  she  turned  to 
look  at  him. 

An  inelegant  exclamation  annoyed  her  further. 
"You  know  what  I  mean  just  as  well  as  I  do,"  he 
went  on  curtly.  "You  never  opened  your  mouth 

207 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  whole  evening.     Lottie   asked   me   what   the 
matter  was  with  you " 

Alice  repeated  but  one  word  of  the  complaining 
sentence.  "Lottie!"  she  echoed.  Her  hus 
band's  anger  grew.  "If  Lottie  would  talk  less/' 
continued  Alice  quietly,  "and  drink  less,  I  should 
be  less  ashamed  to  be  seen  with  her.  And  per 
haps  I  could  talk  more  myself." 

"You  never  did  like  anybody  that  liked  me. 
So  it  is  Lottie  you're  jealous  of?" 

"No,  not  'jealous  of,'  only  ashamed  of.  Even 
at  the  dinner  she  was  scandalous,  I  thought." 

Her  husband  regarded  her  with  stubborn  con 
tempt,  and  it  hurt.  "You  are  very  high  and 
mighty  to-night.  I  wonder,"  he  said  with  a 
scarcely  concealed  sneer,  "whether  prosperity  has 
turned  your  head." 

"You  need  not  look  at  me  in  that  way,  Walter, 
and  you  need  not  taunt  me." 

"You  have  been  abusing  Lottie  Nelson  a  good 
deal  lately.  I  wish  you  would  stop  it."  He  rose 
and  stood  with  one  hand  on  the  table.  Alice  was 
slipping  her  rings  into  the  cup  in  front  of  her  and 
she  dropped  in  the  last  with  some  spirit. 

"I  will  stop  it.  And  I  hope  you  will  never 
speak  of  her  again.  I  certainly  never  will  enter 
tain  her  again  under  any  circumstances,"  she  ex 
claimed. 

208 


Robert  Kimberly 

:  You  will  entertain  her  the  next  time  I  tell  you 


to." 


Alice  turned  quite  white.  "Have  you  anything 
else  to  say  to  me  ?" 

Her  very  restraint  enraged  him.  "Only  that  if  you 
try  to  ride  your  high  horse  with  me,"  he  replied, 
"I  will  send  you  back  to  St.  Louis  some  fine  day." 

"Is  that  all  ?" 

"That  is  all.  And  if  you  think  I  don't  mean 
what  I  say,  try  it  sometime."  As  he  spoke  he 
pushed  the  chair  in  which  he  had  been  sitting 
roughly  aside. 

Alice  rose  to  her  feet.  "I  despise  your  threats," 
she  said,  choking  with  her  own  words.  "I  despise 
you.  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  despise  you."  Her 
heart  beat  rebelliously  and  she  shook  in  every  limb; 
expressions  that  she  would  not  have  known  for  her 
own  fell  stinging  from  her  lips.  "  You  have  bullied 
me  for  the  last  time.  I  have  stood  your  abuse  for 
five  years.  It  will  stop  now.  You  will  do  the 
cringing  and  creeping  from  now  on.  That  woman 
never  shall  sit  down  at  a  table  with  me  again,  not 
if  you  beg  it  of  me  on  your  knees.  You  are  a 
cowardly  wretch;  I  know  you  perfectly;  you 
never  were  anything  else.  I  have  paid  dearly  for 
ever  believing  you  a  man."  Her  contempt  burned 
the  words  she  uttered.  "Now  drive  me  one  step 
further,"  she  sobbed  wildly,  "if  you  dare!" 

209 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  snapped  out  the  light  above  her  head  with 
'mil  angry  twist.  Another  light  shone  through  the 
open  door  of  her  sleeping-room  and  through  this 
door  she  swiftly  passed,  slamming  it  shut  and 
locking  it  sharply  behind  her. 

MacBirney  had  never  seen  his  wife  in  such  a 
state.  He  was  surprised;  but  there  could  be  no 
mistake.  Her  blood  was  certainly  up. 


2IQ 


CHAPTER  XX 

IF  Alice  or  her  husband  apprehended  a  stormy 
sequel  to  the  unpleasant  scene  in  her  dressing 
room  both  were  relieved  that  none  followed.  Not 
a  word  came  up  between  them  as  a  result  of  the 
breach.  There  was  the  usual  silence  that  follows 
a  tempestuous  outbreak  and  the  usual  indirect, 
almost  accidental,  resumption  of  speaking  relations 
after  the  acute  suspicion  of  renewed  hostilities  had 
worn  itself  out. 

MacBirney  had  the  best  of  reasons  for  ignoring 
what  had  passed.  He  had,  in  fact,  experienced 
the  most  surprising  moments  of  his  life  and  caution 
advised  against  the  stirring  up  of  any  further  alter 
cation.  Heretofore  he  had  always  known  just 
what  his  wife,  when  bullied,  \vould  do;  but  he  no 
longer  knew  and  the  uncertainty  gave  him  pause. 

He  found  matter  for  surprise,  indeed  for  a  series 
of  surprises,  in  the  manner  in  which  Alice  stood 
newly  revealed  to  him.  Dependence  and  timidity 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  left  her.  She  walked  a 
new  path;  not  one  of  complete  indifference  to  her 
husband,  but  of  decision  complete  in  itself.  Forced 

211 


Robert  Kimberly 

to  cast  aside  his  judgment  and  fall  back  on  her 
own,  Alice  accepted  the  alternative  openly.  Her 
new  attitude  made  itself  felt  in  unnumbered  ways 
— sometimes  in  no  more  than  arranging  for  a  day 
down-town  with  Fritzie,  sometimes  in  discussing 
when  Cedar  Lodge  should  be  opened  and  how. 
MacBirney  found  himself  no  longer  consulted; 
Alice  told  him  what  she  intended  to  do.  If  he  gave 
arbitrary  or  unreasonable  orders  they  were  ignored. 
If  he  followed  the  subject  further  his  inquiries 
were  ignored. 

Alice  realized  it  was  not  right  to  live  in  a  home 
in  this  way,  but  MacBirney  himself  had  taught 
her  so  many  ways  of  wrong  living  that  compunc 
tion  had  grown  dull.  His  pupil,  long  unwilling 
to  accept  his  debasing  standards  of  married  life, 
long  suffering  the  cruelty  of  finding  them  enforced 
upon  her,  had  at  last  become  all  that  he  had  made 
her  and  something  unpleasantly  more — she  made 
herself  now  complete  mistress  of  her  own  affairs. 

Nor  was  Alice  less  surprised  at  the  abject  sur 
render  of  her  husband.  She  knew  him  in  the 
end  better  than  he  knew  himself,  and  cowardly 
though  he  was,  she  felt  the  new  situation  would 
not  endure  forever — that  worse  must  surely  follow. 
But  those  who  learn  to  sleep  on  dumb  reproach 
and  still  for  years  the  cry  of  waking  apprehension, 
learn  also  not  to  look  with  foreboding  ahead. 

212 


Robert  Kimberly 

There  were,  it  is  true,  times  in  which  Alice 
asked  herself  if  in  her  new  attitude  she  were  not 
walking  in  a  dream;  slumbers  in  which  the  old 
shrinking  fear  returned;  moments  in  which  she 
could  hardly  realize  her  own  determination.  But 
the  fear  that  had  so  long  subdued  her  now  served 
to  support  her  courage.  Go  back  she  would  not; 
the  present  she  had  made  her  own,  the  future  must 
account  for  itself. 

Moreover,  as  the  acuteness  of  the  crisis  passed 
everything  looked  better.  The  present  tends  al 
ways  to  justify  itself.  And  prosperous  skies  open 
ing  on  MacBirney's  speculative  ventures  consoled 
him  for  such  loss  of  prestige  as  he  suffered  in  his 
own  home. 

He  was  again,  curiously  enough,  Alice  thought, 
in  cordial  touch  with  Robert  Kimberly.  She  never 
asked  a  question  and  did  not  know  for  a  long  time 
what  could  account  for  this  change,  since  he  had 
been  abusing  Kimberly  vigorously  during  the  life 
of  the  market  pool.  Kimberly  had  never  called 
at  the  town  apartment  and  Alice  heard  of  him 
only  through  Fritzie,  who  visited  The  Towers  on 
monetary  errands  and  always  spoke  interestingly 
of  Robert's  affairs. 

And  now  spring  airs  came  even  to  town,  and 
Alice,  breathing  them,  with  the  sudden  sunshine 
and  the  morning  song  of  birds,  longed  for  her 

213 


Robert  Kimberly 

country  home.  She  kept  the  telephone  wire  busy 
summoning  her  gardener  to  conferences  and  laid 
out  elaborate  plans  with  him  for  making  Cedar 
Lodge  more  beautiful  for  the  summer.  A  number 
of  things  conspired  to  keep  her  from  getting  out 
to  Second  Lake  early.  But  the  servants  had  been 
installed  and  the  lodge  put  in  readiness  for  her 
coming. 

One  night  in  May — a  summer  night,  warm, 
lighted  by  the  moon  and  still — an  impulse  seized 
Alice  to  break  away  from  everything  for  the  coun 
try.  Morning  found  her  with  Fritzie,  and  ac 
companied  only  by  their  maids,  in  a  big  motor-car 
speeding  over  the  ribbon  roads  toward  Second 
Lake.  A  curious  play  of  emotions  possessed  Alice 
as  they  whirled  through  the  dust  of  the  village  and 
swung  into  the  hills  toward  The  Towers.  She 
had  given  no  instructions  to  her  chauffeur  as  to 
which  road  he  should  take  and  he  had  chosen  the 
southern  road  because  the  grades  were  better. 

It  was  months  since  Alice  had  seen  Kimberly. 
But  not  until  now  did  she  realize  with  some  appre 
hension  how  much  he  had  been  in  her  mind  all 
winter.  The  near  prospect  of  meeting  him  dis 
turbed  her  and  she  felt  an  uneasiness  at  the  thought. 
It  was  too  late  to  change  the  route.  She  felt  she 
had  been  wrong  not  to  give  orders  for  the  north 
road  in  time.  Then  the  notion  came  that  she 

214 


Robert  Kimberly 

must  meet  him  sometime,  anyway,  and  whenevei 
they  met  he  must  be  kept  within  bounds  she  had 
set  many  times  since  their  last  hour  together.  She 
could  see  in  the  distance  The  Towers  gates  and 
the  lodge,  sentinel-like,  away  up  the  road.  The 
mere  sight  of  the  familiar  entrance  brought  Kim 
berly  up  sharply.  The  chauffeur  checked  the 
car  to  ask  whether  he  should  drive  through  the 
grounds.  Fritzie  said,  "Yes." 

Alice  corrected  her,  "No,  no." 

"Why,  my  dear,"  exclaimed  Fritzie,  "not  stop 
to  speak  to  Robert!" 

"It  will  delay  us,  and  I  am  crazy  to  get  home." 

"  But  it  will  cut  off  two  miles ! " 

"And  keep  us  an  hour." 

"  It  won't  keep  us  five  minutes  and  the  grounds 
are  beautiful." 

"We  will  see  them  to-morrow.  Drive  straight 
ahead,  Peters." 

Fritzie  protested  as  they  flew  past  the  lodge. 
"I  feel  like  a  heathen  going  by  The  Towers  in 
this  way.  I  hope  Robert  won't  hear  of  it." 

"I  will  take  all  the  blame,"  returned  Alice,  with 
a  bravado  she  did  not  feel.  Then  she  laid  her 
hand  on  Fritzie's  arm.  "You  may  come  back 
right  after  luncheon." 

When  they  reached  the  hill  beyond  Black  Rock 
they  saw  Cedar  Point  lying  below  in  the  sunshine 

215 


Robert  Kimberly 

of  the  lake.  Alice  cried  out  at  the  beauty  of  it. 
Her  spirits  rose  with  an  emotion  that  surprised  her. 
For  an  instant  she  could  not  speak.  Her  eyes 
moistened  and  the  load  that  had  oppressed  her  a 
moment  earlier  took  wings.  Before  she  had  quite 
recovered,  the  car  was  down  the  hill  and  speeding 
through  the  green  gates,  up  the  winding  avenue 
of  maples,  and  swinging  in  an  alarming  ellipse 
around  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

She  ran  in  through  the  open  doors  as  if  she  had 
left  it  all  but  yesterday.  Flowers  were  everywhere. 
She  passed  from  room  to  room  with  the  bubbling 
spirits  of  a  child  and  dropped  at  last  into  her  own 
little  chair  at  her  toilet  table.  Annie,  infected  with 
the  happiness  of  her  mistress,  was  wreathed  in 
smiles  as  she  took  her  hat,  while  Fritzie,  sitting  in 
dusty  veil  and  gloves,  telephone  in  hand,  was  call 
ing  The  Towers  and  in  the  same  breath  begging 
her  maid  to  prepare  her  bath.  No  response  to 
Fritzie's  telephone  message  came  until  late  in  the 
afternoon.  About  four  o'clock  Robert  Kimberly 
called  her  up. 

"I  hear  you  have  arrived,"  he  said. 

"This  is  a  pretty  time  for  you  to  be  answering, 
Robert.  Where  have  you  been  all  day?" 

"Driving  with  Francis.  He  hasn't  been  very 
well  lately.  I  took  him  over  to  the  Sound.  How 
is  Mrs.  MacBirney,  Fritzie  ?" 

216 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Come  over  and  see." 

"Call  her  to  the  telephone." 

Alice  took  the  receiver.  "How  do  you  do,  Mr. 
Kimberly?" 

"Glad  to  hear  your  voice.  Fritzie  has  been  tell 
ing  me  stories  about  you  all  winter." 

Alice  controlled  the  pleasant  excitement  that 
came  with  the  familiar  sound  of  his  own  voice. 
"You  mustn't  believe  the  stories  you  hear,"  she 
laughed.  "How  are  you  all?" 

"One  story  to-day  sounded  pretty  straight." 

"Sometimes  those  are  the  least  reliable.  How 
is  your  uncle  ?" 

"Still  I  shall  have  to  have  it  out  with  you — pass 
ing  us  by  this  morning." 

"But  you  weren't  at  home." 

"Worse  and  worse — you  didn't  know  that." 

She  laughed  again  happily.  "  You  may  scold  as 
much  as  you  like,  I'm  so  happy  to  get  home  I'm 
walking  on  air." 

"How  do  you  manage  that?  I  never  can  get 
up  any  excitement  over  getting  home.  I  wish  I 
might  come  and  see  how  it  affects  you." 

"Do  come." 

"Unfortunately  I  am  leaving  to-night  for  the 
Southwest." 

"For  the  Southwest?"  she  echoed  in  surprise. 
"But  we  heard  of  you  just  back  from  the  West." 

217 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Yes,  and  with  some  stones  for  you.  This 
time  it  is  New  Orleans  and  a  terminal  project." 

"So  busy  a  man!  I  hope  we  shall  see  you  when 
you  return." 

"I  certainly  hope  so.  If  I  didn't,  I  shouldn't 
go.  By-the-way,"  he  added  humorously,  "I  seem 
to  have  dropped  something." 

"What  can  it  be?" 

"The  string  you  held  out  a  minute  ago." 

Alice's  eyes  danced  but  only  the  telephone 
receiver  saw  them.  "What  string?" 

"About  letting  me  come  over.  A  car  was  set  in 
this  afternoon  at  Sunbury  but  the  train  doesn't 
pick  me  up  till  eleven  o'clock  to-night.  I  might 
run  over  to  see  you  on  my  way  down " 

"Oh,  by  all  means,  do,  Mr.  Kimberly." 

" — just  to  see  how  you  look  when  you  are 
happy." 

"Do  come;    but  I  am  always  happy." 

He  hesitated  a  moment.  "  If  I  were  sure  of  that 
I  might  not  come." 

"You  may  be  'sure,'  I  assure  you.  And  why, 
pray,  shouldn't  you  come?" 

He  retreated  easily.  "Because  in  that  case  I 
could  see  your  happiness,  without  intruding  on 
you  when  you  are  tired — as  you  must  be  now. 
However,  I  will  run  in  for  a  few  moments  after 
dinner." 

218 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly  appeared  shortly  before  nine  o'clock. 
Fritzie  greeted  him.  "Oh,  aren't  you  youthful 
to-night?"  she  exclaimed.  He  was  in  a  travelling 
suit  and  his  face  was  tanned  from  his  Western 
trip.  "  You  should  never  wear  anything  but  gray, 
Robert." 

"Has  she  been  as  agreeable  as  this  all  winter?" 
asked  Kimberly  turning  to  greet  Alice. 

"All  winter/'  declared  Fritzie,  answering  for 
herself,  "except  once  when  Lottie  Nelson's  dog 
chewed  up  a  lace  hat  for  me,  and  Robert,  I  have 
spent  this  whole  winter  saying  good  things  about 
you — haven't  I  Alice  ?  Even  when  we  saw  they 
were  trying  to  put  you  in  jail." 

"Many  worthy  people  seemed  to  sympathize 
with  that  effort,"  responded  Kimberly  dryly.  "I 
trust  you  didn't?"  he  added  turning  to  Alice. 

"I  ?  Not  in  the  least.  If  they  had  succeeded, 
I  should  have  brought  you  flowers." 

The  three  sat  do\vn.  Kimberly  looked  at  Alice. 
"What  have  you  been  doing  all  winter?" 

"Nothing." 

"Listen  to  that!"  exclaimed  Fritzie.  "Why, 
we've  been  as  busy  as  ants  all  winter." 

"Fritzie  would  never  allow  you  to  do  nothing," 
said  Kimberly.  "You  met  a  lot  of  people  she 
tells  me." 

"I  said  'nothing,'  because  the  time  went  so 
219 


Robert  Kimberly 

fast  I  found  no  time  to  do  anything  I  had  intended 


to." 


Fritzie  objected  again :  "  You  kept  at  your  sing 
ing  all  winter,  didn't  you  ?" 

Kimberly  showed  interest  at  once.  "Good! 
Let  us  hear  now  how  your  voice  sounds  in  the 
country  air." 

"I  haven't  any  songs." 

"You  threw  some  into  the  wicker  trunk,"  in 
terposed  Fritzie. 

"Find  them,  Fritzie,  do,"  said  Kimberly.  "And 
what  else  did  you  do?"  he  asked  of  Alice  as 
Fritzie  ran  upstairs. 

"Everything  that  country  people  do,"  responded 
Alice.  "And  you've  been  West  ?  Tell  me  all  about 


it." 


Kimberly  looked  very  comfortable  in  a  Roman 
chair  as  he  bent  his  eyes  upon  her.  "Hardly  a 
spot  in  Colorado  escaped  me  this  time.  And  I 
went  to  Piedmont " 

"To  Piedmont?"  cried  Alice.  "Oh,  to  see 
the  little  factory." 

"To  see  the  house  you  lived  in  when  you  were 
there." 

"What  possible  interest  could  that  poor  cottage 
have  for  any  one  ?  You  must  have  realized  that 
we  began  housekeeping  very  modestly." 

He  brushed  her  suggestion  away  with  a  gesture. 
220 


Robert  Kimberly 

"  I  wanted  to  see  it  merely  because  you  had  lived 
in  it."  He  waited  a  moment.  "Can't  you  under 
stand  that?" 

"Frankly,  I  cannot." 

"St.  Louis  was  very  interesting,"  he  went  on. 

"Oh,  I  love  St.  Louis!"  Alice  exclaimed. 

"So  do  I,"  assented  Kimberly.  "And  in  St. 
Louis  I  went  to  see  the  house  you  were  born  in. 
It  was  worth  looking  at;  your  father's  house  was 
a  house  of  character  and  dignity " 

"Why,  thank  you!" 

" — Like  many  of  the  older  houses  I  ran  across 
in  searching  it  out " 

Alice  seemed  unable  to  rise  quite  above  her 
embarrassment.  "I  can  hardly  believe  you  are 
not  making  fun  of  me.  What  ridiculous  quests 
in  St.  Louis  and  in  Piedmont!  Surely  there  must 
have  been  incidents  of  more  importance  than 
these  in  a  three-weeks'  trip." 

He  ignored  her  comment.  "  I  stood  a  long  time 
staring  at  your  father's  house,  and  wishing  I 
might  have  been  born  in  that  little  old  cottage 
just  across  the  street  from  wThere  that  rich  little 
girl  of  sixteen  lived.  I  would  rather  have  known 
you  then  than  lived  all  I  have  lived  since  you  were 
born  there." 

Alice  returned  his  look  with  control  of  every 
feature.  "I  did  not  live  there  till  I  was  sixteen, 

221   • 


Robert  Kimberly 

if  you  mean  the  old  home.  And  if  you  had  been 
born  just  across  the  street  you  would  have  had  no 
absurd  idea  about  that  little  girl  in  your  head. 
Little  girls  are  not  usually  interested  in  little  boys 
across  the  street.  Little  boys  born  thousands  of 
miles  away  have  better  chances,  I  think,  of  know 
ing  them.  And  it  is  better  so — for  they,  at  least, 
don't  know  what  absurd,  selfish  little  things  girls 
across  the  street  are." 

"That  is  all  wrong ' 

"It  is  not,"  declared  Alice  pointedly. 

But  the  force  of  everything  she  said  was  swept 
away  by  his  manner.  "Only  give  me  the  same 
street  and  the  meanest  house  in  it!"  His  inten 
sity  would  not  be  answered.  "I  would  have  taken 
the  chances  of  winning." 

"What  confidence!" 

"And  I'd  have  done  it  or  torn  the  house  down." 

Fritzie  came  back.  "I  can't  find  the  music 
anywhere." 

Kimberly  rose  to  go  to  the  music  room.  "No 
matter,"  he  persisted,  "sing  anything  you  can  re 
member,  Mrs.  MacBirney — just  sing." 

It  seemed  easier,  as  it  always  seemed  when 
Kimberly  persisted,  to  consent  than  to  decline. 
Alice  sang  an  English  ballad.  Then  a  scrap — all 
she  could  remember — of  a  Moskowski  song;  then 
an  Italian  ballad.  Kimberly  leaned  on  the  piano. 

222 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Do  you  like  any  of  those  ?"  asked  Alice  with 
her  hands  running  over  the  keys. 

"All  of  them.     But  what  was  the  last  ?" 

"An  Italian  air." 

"Yes,  I  remember  it — in  Italy.  Sing  it  again, 
will  you  ?" 

"Tell  me  about  that  song,"  he  said  when  she 
had  repeated  it.  "It  is  lovely." 

"I  don't  know  much.     It  is  a  very  old  song." 

"Have  I  ever  told  you  about  a  villa  on  Lago 
Maggiore?" 

"Fritzie  has  told  me.     She  says  it  is  a  dream." 

"I  should  like  to  hear  you  sing  that  song  there 


sometime." 


The  moon  was  rising  when  Kimberly  left  for 
the  train.  Fritzie  objected  to  his  going.  "Give 
up  your  trip.  Stay  over  to-night.  What's  the 
difference  ?" 

"I  can't,  Fritzie.  I'm  going  like  a  minstrel 
show,  billed  for  one-night  stands.  I  have  engage 
ments  ahead  of  me  all  the  way  and  if  I  miss  a  day 
I  upset  the  whole  schedule." 

"What's  it  all  about?" 

"A  railroad  terminal  and  reorganization.  And 
I've  just  time  to  get  around  and  back  for  Charles's 


return." 


'"And  the  country  dance!"  said  Fritzie. 
"Dolly's  country  dance,"  explained  Alice. 
223 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Good.     I  don't  want  to  miss  that." 

Fritzie  caught  his  sleeve.  "You  disappointed 
us  last  year." 

"You  may  count  on  me,"  promised  Kimberly. 

Fritzie  pouted.  "I  know  what  that  means, 
'don't  count  on  me!" 

"This  time,"  returned  Kimberly  as  the  door 
of  his  motor-car  was  opened  for  him,  "it  isn't 
going  to  mean  that,  Fritzie." 


224 


CHAPTER  XXI 

MACBIRNEY  followed  his  household  to  the 
country  after  two  weeks.  The  De  Castros 
were  then  back  and  Dolly  enlisted  Alice  and 
Fritzie  to  make  ready  for  the  dance  at  Black  Rock 
barn  which  regularly  signalized  at  Second  Lake 
what  Nelson  termed  the  "opening  of  navigation." 

Alice,  with  Fritzie  to  help,  was  charged  with  the 
decorations  for  the  event,  and  two  days  before  it, 
the  available  men  about  the  place,  under  their  di 
rection,  were  emptying  the  green-houses  and  lay 
ing  the  woods  under  tribute. 

The  lighting  scheme  Alice  pronounced  ineffec 
tive.  For  years  no  one  had  given  the  subject  any 
attention.  At  the  last  moment  electricians  were 
brought  out  from  town  to  work  early  and  late  and 
lights  were  installed  from  which  operators  in  ele 
vated  cages  could  throw  sheets  of  color  on  the 
dancers. 

When  Imogene  and  Charles  got  home — and  they 
were  late,  arriving  only  the  evening  before  the 
party — Dolly,  who  met  them  at  the  train,  drove 
them  directly  to  Black  Rock,  where  Alice  with  her 

'25 


Robert  Kimberly 

husband,  Fritzie,  and  Arthur  De  Castro  was  con 
ducting  a  rehearsal  of  the  electrical  effects.  The 
kisses  and  embraces  of  the  committee  and  the 
arrivals  took  place  under  the  rays  of  the  new  spot 
lights. 

"Now  if  Robert  were  here,"  cried  Fritzie  im 
patiently,  "everything  would  be  complete.  No 
one  knows  where  he  is.  Suppose  he  doesn't 
come?" 

"He  is  in  town  and  will  be  out  to-morrow." 
Imogene  as  she  made  the  announcement  put  her 
arm  around  Alice.  "Sweetheart,  you  must  be 
dead." 

Alice  was  sustained  by  the  excitement.  "Noth 
ing  of  the  sort.  I  haven't  done  anything  but  sug 
gest,"  she  said  gayly.  "Fritzie  has  done  all  the 
work.  In  the  morning  we  will  bring  in  the  apple 
blossoms  and  we  are  through." 

But  when  she  had  received  all  the  enthusiasm 
and  compliments  she  went  home  tired.  MacBir- 
ney  came  to  her  room  to  talk,  but  he  had  no  word 
for  the  successful  decorations  and  Alice  pleading 
fatigue  went  directly  to  bed. 

She  woke  with  the  sun  streaming  through  the 
east  windows.  It  was  late  and  though  still  tired 
she  rose  at  once.  The  morning  was  superb,  and, 
while  dressing,  Alice  surprised  Annie  by  singing 
to  herself. 

226 


Robert  Kimberly 

Fritzie  drove  over  with  her  to  Black  Rock.  Alice 
running  in  to  speak  to  Dolly  found  her  in  bed. 
Dolly  kissed  her.  "You  look  so  fresh,  dear." 
Alice  drew  herself  up  with  a  laugh.  "It's  the 
morning,  Dolly." 

"By-the-way,  Robert  is  here.  He  came  late 
and  he  and  Arthur  talked  so  long  he  stayed  all 
night.  He  is  just  across  the  hall  in  the  blue  room." 

"Then  every  one  is  accounted  for.  I  must  be 
off,  Dolly." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"To  the  woods  with  Fritzie  to  get  the  blossoms." 

An  old  coaching  brake  had  been  sent  up  from 
the  stables  and  Arthur  De  Castro  was  waiting  for 
the  two  women.  "I  am  going  to  drive  you  down 
the  field  before  I  take  my  ride,"  he  explained. 

"You  do  need  exercise.  You  look  sleepy, 
Arthur,"  remarked  Fritzie,  critically. 

"Robert  kept  me  up  all  night."  Arthur  turned 
to  Alice.  "You  knew  he  was  back?" 

"Dolly  told  me." 

"The  lazy  fellow  isn't  up  yet,"  said  Fritzie. 

Arthur  corrected  her.  "He  is  up  and  gone 
home.  But  he  will  be  over  again  this  morn- 
ing." 

The  horses  were  fresh  and  took  Arthur's  atten 
tion  across  the  field  and  the  big  wagon  lurched  as 
the  team  danced  along.  In  the  woods  they  found 

227 


Robert  Kimberly 

Grace  De  Castro  with  the  men  who  were  to  work. 
Arthur's  saddle-horse  was  in  waiting.  The  men 
began  loading  the  brake  with  elder  blossoms,  brier 
roses,  and  branches  from  the  forest  trees.  Arthur 
had  meant  to  take  his  groom  with  him,  but  found 
there  would  be  nobody  to  drive  the  brake  back  to 
the  barn. 

"No  matter,  Mr.  De  Castro,"  said  Alice.  "Take 
him.  I  will  drive  back/'  Arthur  demurred,  but 
Alice  insisted.  "I  would  rather  drive  the  team 
than  not.  I  drive  our  horses  all  the  time." 

Arthur  and  the  groom  rode  away.  Fritzie 
and  Grace  looked  at  Alice  in  astonishment  when 
the  wagon  had  been  loaded  and  Alice  took  the 
driver's  high  seat,  pulled  her  glove  gauntlets  back 
taut  and  a  gardener  handed  her  the  reins. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  ?"    cried  Grace. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  Alice  answered,  slipping  her 
hands  into  the  driving  loops  and  putting  her  foot 
on  the  wheel-brake. 

"Really,"  declared  Grace,  "you  have  quite  an 


air." 


Fritzie  was  apprehensive.  "For  Heaven's  sake, 
don't  let  them  run  away,  Allie." 

The  men  at  the  bridles  stood  aside,  Alice  spoke 
and  the  team  leaped  swiftly  ahead.  She  gave 
them  leeway  for  a  few  moments,  but  kept  them 
under  control  and  her  manner  was  so  confident  that 

228 


Robert  Kimberly 

Fritzie's  fears  were  allayed  before  the  brake  had 
crossed  the  first  hill.  As  Alice  made  the  turn  in 
the  road  and  looked  laughingly  back  the  two  girls 
waved  approval  at  her.  They  saw  the  brim  of  her 
broad  hat  rising  and  falling  like  a  bird's  wings  as 
she  nodded  to  them;  then  she  threw  on  the  wheel- 
brake  and  started  down  the  hill. 

For  a  moment  the  difficulty  of  holding  the  pair 
in  check  increased  and  by  the  time  the  barn  was 
in  sight  the  struggle  had  stirred  her  blood.  It 
colored  two  little  circles  in  her  cheeks  and  had 
lighted  fires  of  animation  in  her  gray  eyes.  She 
saw  the  rising  entrance  to  the  barn  and  only  took 
heed  that  the  doors  were  wide  open.  Then  she 
gave  all  her  strength  to  guiding  the  rushing  horses 
up  the  long  incline.  Just  as  their  heads  shot 
under  the  doorway  the  off  horse  shied.  The  front 
wheels  of  the  brake  bounced  over  the  threshold 
and  Alice  saw,  standing  within,  Robert  Kimberly. 

She  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise  as  she 
threw  on  the  wheel-brake,  pulled  with  all  her 
strength  on  the  reins  and  brought  her  horses  to  a 
halt.  Kimberly  with  one  hand  on  the  casement 
stood  perfectly  still  until  she  looked  around.  Then 
he  came  forward  laughing.  "You  certainly  are  a 
capital  whip." 

"You  frightened  me  nearly  to  death !"  exclaimed 
Alice  with  a  long  breath.  "Where,  pray,  did  you 

229 


Robert  Kimberly 

come  from?"   she  demanded,  looking  down  from 
her  eminence. 

"From  almost  everywhere.     And  you?" 

"From  the  woods." 

He  laid  a  hand  on  the  foot-board.  "Really,  I 
wonder  whether  there  is  anything  you  can't  do." 

"I  am  afraid  there  is  one  thing  now.  I  don't 
see  how  I  am  going  to  get  down.  Aren't  there 
any  men  around  to  take  the  horses?" 

"The  horses  will  stand.  Just  hook  your  lines 
and  jump  from  the  wheel." 

Alice  looked  at  the  distance  in  dismay.  "That 
is  easy  to  say." 

"Not  hard  to  do,"  returned  Kimberly.  'Til 
break  your  flight." 

"I'm  a  wretched  jumper." 

"Nonsense.  You  can't  tell  me  you're  a  wretched 
anything  after  that  drive." 

"Step  away  then  and  I'll  jump.  Only,  I  don't 
see  just  how  I  am  going  to  stop  after  I  start." 

"What  do  you  want  to  stop  for  ?     Come  ahead." 

She  put  her  foot  cautiously  on  the  wheel;  it  was 
a  very  pretty  foot.  Then  she  steadied  herself  and 
with  her  hand  swept  little  ringlets  of  hair  from 
her  eyes. 

She  knew  he  was  waiting  to  receive  her  and, 
meaning  to  elude  him,  turned  at  the  last  instant 
and  jumped  away  from  where  he  stood.  Kim- 

230 


Robert  Kimberly 

berly,  in  spite  of  her  precaution,  caught  her  as  her 
feet  struck  the  floor,  and  leaned  an  instant  over 
her.  "  Beautifully  done ! "  he  exclaimed,  and  draw 
ing  her  suddenly  into  his  arms  he  kissed  her. 

She  pushed  him  back  with  all  her  strength. 
He  met  her  consternation  with  good  humor.  "I 
couldn't  help  it." 

Alice,  burning  with  angry  blushes,  retreated. 
He  hoped  it  would  end  there  and  ignored  the 
outraged  spirit  in  her  eyes  as  she  took  her  hand 
kerchief  from  her  waist. 

He  tried  to  laugh  again.  "  Don't  be  angry." 
But  Alice  put  both  hands  to  her  face  and  walked 
quickly  away. 


231 


CHAPTER  XXII 

KIMBERLY  followed  her  through  the  open 
door.  "Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked. 
Her  answer  came  in  her  quickened  step.  He  re 
peated  his  words  without  eliciting  any  response. 
Then  he  stepped  directly  in  front  of  her  in  the 
path.  "Stop  for  one  moment.  Alice,  you  can't 
go  any  farther  while  you  are  as  angry  at  me  as 
you  are  now." 

"I  am  Alice  to  no  one  but  my  husband,"  she 
exclaimed  controlling  herself  as  well  as  she  could. 
"You  shall  not  stop  me,  you  have  no  right  to." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"I  am  going  home." 

"Listen;  you  are  Alice  to  me — now,  and  for 
ever;  remember  that." 

Her  knees  trembled  as  she  strove  to  escape  him. 
She  tried  to  pass  through  the  shrubbery  and  could 
not.  She  felt  faint  and  dizzy.  The  very  world 
had  changed  with  a  kiss.  Everything  in  life 
seemed  upset,  every  safeguard  gone. 

He  took  her  arm.  "Come  back  to  the  path, 
Alice.  We  must  walk  it  together." 

232 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  paused  an  instant  for  breath  and  made  an 
effort  to  speak  as  she  put  his  hand  angrily  away. 
"I  insist,"  she  cried,  "that  you  do  not  continue 
to  insult  me." 

"  If  you  wait  for  me  to  insult  you,  Alice,  you 
will  wait  a  long  time.  I  should  be  as  likely  to  in 
sult  my  own  mother." 

"I  have  done  nothing  to  deserve  this,"  she 
sobbed,  frantic  with  confusion. 

"You  deserve  more  a  thousand  times  than  my 
devotion  ever  can  bring  you.  But  all  it  can  ever 
bring,  from  the  moment  I  kissed  you,  is  yours." 

Her  eyes  blazed  through  her  tears.  In  her  help 
less  wrath  she  stamped  her  foot.  "You  are  shame 
less.  I  detest  your  conduct.  If  you  are  going  to 
the  house  I  will  stay  here.  If  you  are  not,  let  me 

go-" 

He    met    her    denunciation    with     steadiness. 

"Nothing  you  can  say  will  anger  me." 

"You  mean  you  have  no  respect  for  me."  She 
spoke  so  fast  she  could  scarcely  frame  the  words. 
"Why  don't  you  say  so  ?  Are  you  too  cowardly  ? " 
The  imputation  stung  him.  He  seemed  to  ex 
plode  inwardly.  "I  have  nothing  but  respect  for 
you,  Alice,"  he  insisted  with  terrifying  energy, 

"but  this  thing  must  be  fought  out ' 

She  attempted  to  speak.  His  words  drowned 
her.  "I  want  to  say  nothing  that  will  wound  or 

233 


Robert  Kimberly 

offend  you.     You  make  it  very  hard  for  me  to 
speak  at  all ' 

"You  have  no  right  to  speak " 

"But,  Alice,"  he  exclaimed,  throwing  all  his 
force  into  the  words,  "you  don't  love  that  man. 
That  is  why  I  speak.  If  you  did  love  him,  if  even 
he  loved  you,  I  could  be  silent." 

"I  love  my  husband  as  a  wife  should,"  she 
cried,  struggling  vainly  to  escape  his  accusation. 

"You  do  not.     You  cannot!" 

They  spoke  at  white  heat,  she  fighting  vainly  to 
control  her  trembling  limbs  and  Kimberly  paus 
ing  at  times  to  deal  better  his  sledge-hammer  blows 
at  her  pitiful  strength. 

"  You  do  not  love  that  man.  If  I  believed  you 
did,"  he  spoke  with  a  bitterness  she  had  never 
heard  before,  "  I  should  never  want  to  see  another 
sun  rise.  I  respect  you  above  all  women  that 
breathe;  but  in  that  I  am  right,  I  can't  be  wrong. 
I  have  suppressed  and  stifled  and  smothered  as 
long  as  I  can  and  it  will  come  out!" 

"I  will  not  hear  you!" 

"Sometime,  somewhere,  you  will  hear  me. 
Don't  speak!"  he  exclaimed  vehemently.  The 
veins  knotted  upon  his  forehead.  "I  forgot  myself 
for  a  moment.  If  you  knew  what  it  costs  me  to  re 
member!  But,  Alice,  for  me  it  is  you — or  nothing 
in  this  world.  Remember!  You  or  nothing!" 

234 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  searched  his  face  for  pity.  "I  am  sinking 
with  shame.  What  further,  what  more  humilia 
tion  do  you  want  ?  We  are  in  plain  view  of  the 
house.  I  am  utterly  helpless.  Will  you  not  have 
the  decency  to  leave  me?" 

"I  wish  I  could  have  said  this  better;  I  do 
nothing  well.  If  I  have  hurt  you,  I  am  very,  very 
sorry/'  He  strode  away  toward  the  garden. 

Trying  to  compose  herself,  Alice  walked  to  the 
house.  Providentially,  Dolly  had  already  started 
for  the  field.  Summoning  a  servant,  Alice  ordered 
her  car  and  with  her  head  whirling  started  for 
home.  As  she  was  hurried  over  the  country  road 
her  mind  gradually  righted  itself,  and  strange 
thoughts  ran  like  lightning  flashes  through  her 
brain.  Reaching  home,  she  hastened  upstairs 
and  locked  her  door. 

What  startled  her  most  painfully  in  her  reflec 
tions  was  the  unwelcome  conviction  that  there  was 
nothing  new,  nothing  surprising  in  her  situation. 
Nothing,  at  least,  except  this  violent  outburst 
which  she  now  realized  she  ought  long  ago  to  have 
foreseen.  She  was  suddenly  conscious  that  she 
had  long  known  Kimberly  loved  her,  and  that 
one  day  he  would  call  her  to  account — for  the 
crime  of  being  loved  in  spite  of  herself,  she  re 
flected  bitterly. 

She  threw  herself  on  her  couch  and  held  her 
235 


Robert  Kimberly 

hands  upon  her  burning  temples.  He  had  caught 
her  in  his  arms  and  forced  a  kiss  upon  her.  The 
blood  suffused  her  face  at  the  recollection.  Again 
and  again,  though  she  turned  from  the  picture, 
imagination  brought  it  back.  She  saw  his  eyes  as 
he  bent  over  her;  the  thought  of  the  moment  was 
too  much  to  support.  Her  very  forehead  crim 
soned  as  the  scene  presented  itself.  And  worse, 
was  the  realizing  that  something  of  fascination 
lingered  in  the  horror  of  that  instant  of  amaze 
ment  and  fear  and  mad  repulsion  of  his  embrace. 
She  hid  her  face  in  her  pillow. 

After  a  time  she  grew  calmer,  and  with  her  rac 
ing  pulse  quieted,  her  emotion  wore  itself  somewhat 
out.  Saner  thoughts  asserted  themselves.  She 
felt  that  she  could  fight  it  out.  She  searched  her 
heart  and  found  no  wantonness  within  it.  Strong 
ly  assailed,  and  not,  she  felt,  through  her  own 
fault,  she  would  fight  and  resist.  He  had  chal 
lenged  her  when  he  had  said  it  should  be  fought 
out.  She,  too,  resolved  it  should  be. 

She  bathed  her  forehead,  and  when  she  felt 
sure  of  herself,  rang  for  Annie.  Lunch  was  served 
in  her  room,  but  she  could  eat  nothing.  At  mo 
ments  she  felt  the  comforting  conviction  of  hav 
ing  settled  her  mind.  Unhappily,  her  mind  would 
not  stay  settled.  Nothing  would  stay  settled.  No 
mood  that  brought  relief  would  remain.  The 

236 


Robert  Kimberly 

blood  came  unbidden  to  her  cheeks  even  while 
Annie  was  serving  her  and  her  breath  would  catch 
at  the  opening  of  a  door. 

When  she  heard  the  hum  of  a  motor-car  on 
the  open  highway  her  heart  jumped.  She  opened 
the  porch  doors  and  went  out  to  where  she  could 
look  on  the  lake.  Her  eyes  fell  upon  the  distant 
Towers  and  her  anger  against  Kimberly  rose.  She 
resolved  he  should  realize  how  he  had  outraged 
her  self-respect.  She  picked  from  the  troubled 
current  of  her  thought  cutting  things  that  she  ought 
to  have  said.  She  despised  herself  for  not  having 
more  angrily  resented  his  conduct,  and  deter 
mined,  if  he  dared  further  persist,  to  expose  him 
relentlessly  to  the  circle  of  their  friends,  even  if 
they  were  his  own  relations.  There  should  be 
no  guilty  secret  between  them;  this,  at  least,  she 
could  insure. 

When  the  telephone  bell  rang,  Annie  answered 
it.  Dolly  was  calling  for  Alice  and  wrent  into  a 
state  when  told  that  Alice  had  come  home  affected 
by  the  heat,  and  had  given  up  and  gone  to  bed; 
she  hoped  yet,  Annie  said,  to  be  all  right  for  the 
evening.  Fritzie  took  the  wire  at  Black  Rock  to  ask 
what  she  could  do,  and  Annie  assured  her  there 
was  nothing  her  mistress  needed  but  quiet  and  rest. 

When  the  receiver  had  been  hung  up  the  first 
bridge  was  crossed,  for  Alice  was  resolved  above 

237 


Robert  Kimberly 

all  things  not  to  be  seen  that  night  at  the  dance. 
When  Fritzie  came  back  to  Cedar  Lodge  to  dress, 
Alice  was  still  in  bed.  Her  room  was  darkened 
and  Annie  thought  she  might  be  sleeping.  At 
dinner-time,  MacBirney,  who  had  been  in  town  all 
day,  came  in  to  see  how  she  was.  She  told  her  hus 
band  that  he  would  have  to  go  to  Dolly's  with 
Fritzie. 

MacBirney  bent  over  his  wife  and  kissed  her, 
greatly  to  her  mental  discomfort.  An  unwelcome 
kiss  from  him  seemed  to  bring  back  more  confus- 
ingly  the  recollection  of  Kimberly's  kiss,  and  to 
increase  her  perplexities.  She  detested  her  hus 
band's  caresses;  they  meant  no  real  affection  and 
she  did  not  intend  he  should  think  she  believed 
they  did.  But  she  never  could  decide  where  to 
draw  the  line  with  him,  and  was  divided  between 
a  desire  to  keep  him  always  at  a  distance  and  a 
wish  not  to  seem  always  unamiable. 

Fritzie,  after  she  was  dressed,  tiptoed  in.  The 
room  was  lighted  to  show  Alice  the  new  gown.  It 
was  one  of  their  spring  achievements,  and  Alice 
raised  herself  on  her  pillow  to  give  a  complete 
approval  of  the  effect.  "It  is  a  stunning  thing; 
simply  stunning.  If  you  would  only  stop  running 
yourself  to  death,  Fritzie,  and  put  on  ten  pounds, 
you  would  be  absolute  perfection." 

."If  I  stopped  running  myself  to  death  what 
238 


Robert  Kimberly 

would  there  be  to  live  for?"  demanded  Fritzie, 
refastening  the  last  pin  in  her  Dresden  girdle. 
"We  all  have  to  live  for  something." 

Alice  put  her  hand  to  her  head.  "I  wonder 
what  I  have  to  live  for?" 

Fritzie  turned  sharply.  "You?  Why  nothing 
but  to  spend  your  money  and  have  a  good  time. 
Too  bad  about  you,  isn't  it  ?  You'll  soon  have  a 
million  a  year  for  pin-money." 

Alice  shook  her  head.  "A  dozen  millions  a 
year  would  not  interest  me,  Fritzie." 

Fritzie  laughed.  "Don't  be  too  sure,  my  dear; 
not  too  sure.  Well,"  Fritzie's  hands  ran  carefully 
over  her  hair  for  the  last  time,  "there  are  a  lot  of 
men  coming  over  from  the  Sound  to-night.  I 
may  meet  my  fate!" 

"I  wish  you  may  with  all  my  heart,  Fritzie. 
Why  is  it  fates  always  come  to  people  that  don't 
want  them?" 

"Don't  you  believe  it,"  cried  Fritzie,  "they  do 
want  them." 

"They  don't — not  always." 

"Don't  you  ever  believe  it — they  only  say  they 
don't  or  think  they  don't!"  she  exclaimed,  with 
accustomed  vehemence. 

Alice  moved  upon  her  pillow  in  impatient  dis 
approval.  "I  hope  you'll  have  a  good  time  to 
night." 

239 


Robert  Kimberly 

MacBirney  was  ready  and  Fritzie  joined  him. 
The  house  grew  quiet  after  they  left.  Annie 
brought  up  a  tray  and  Alice  took  a  cup  of  broth. 
She  did  not  long  resist  the  drowsiness  that  followed. 
She  thought  vaguely  for  a  moment  of  a  prayer 
for  safety.  But  her  married  life  had  long  excluded 
prayer.  What  good  could  come  of  praying  to  be 
kept  unharmed  while  living  in  a  state  that  had  in 
itself  driven  her  from  prayer  ?  That,  at  least, 
would  be  too  absurd,  and  with  a  dull  fear  gnaw 
ing  and  dying  alternately  at  her  heart  she  fell 
asleep. 


240 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

AT   noon   next  day   MacBirney,   seeking  his 
wife,  found  her  in  her  dressing-room.     She 
had   come  from  the  garden  and  stood   before  a 
table  filled  with  flowers,  which  she  was    arrang 
ing  in  vases. 

"  I've  been  looking  for  you."  MacBirney  threw 
himself  into  a  convenient  chair  as  he  spoke. 
"  Robert  Kimberly  is  downstairs." 

"Mr.  Kimberly?     To  see  you,  I  suppose." 

"No,  to  see  you." 

"To  see  me?"  Alice  with  flowers  in  her  hand, 
paused.  Then  she  carried  a  vase  to  the  mantel 
piece.  "At  this  time  of  day  ?" 

"Well — to  see  us,  he  says." 

She  returned  to  the  table.  "What  in  the  world 
does  he  want  to  see  us  about?" 

MacBirney  laughed.  "He  says  he  has  some 
thing  to  say  to  both  of  us.  I  told  him  I  would 
bring  you  down." 

A  breath  would  have  toppled  Alice  over.  "I 
can't  dress  to  go  down  now,"  she  managed  to  say. 
"It  may  be  something  from  Dolly.  Ask  him  to 
give  you  any  message  he  has." 

241 


Robert  Kimberly 

Walking  hurriedly  to  the  mantel  with  another 
jar  of  roses,  she  found  her  fear  extreme.  Could 
it  be  possible  Kimberly  would  dream  of  saying 
to  her  husband  what  he  had  said  to  her  yes 
terday  ?  She  smothered  at  the  thought,  yet  she 
knew  his  appalling  candor  and  felt  unpleasantly 
convinced  that  he  was  capable  of  repeating  every 
word  of  it.  The  idea  threw  her  into  a  panic.  She 
resolved  not  to  face  him  under  such  circumstances; 
she  was  in  no  position  to  do  so.  "Tell  him,"  she 
said  abruptly,  "that  as  much  as  I  should  like  to 
hear  what  he  has  to  say,  he  wrill  have  to  excuse  me 
this  morning." 

"He  offered  to  come  this  evening  if  you  pre 
ferred." 

"We  have  other  guests  to-night,"  returned  Alice 
coldly.  "And  I  can't  be  bothered  now." 

"Bothered?"  echoed  MacBirney  with  sarcasm. 
"Perhaps  I  had  better  tell  him  that." 

"  By  all  means,  if  you  want  to,"  she  retorted  in 
desperation.  "Tell  him  anything  you  like." 

Her  husband  rose.  "You  are  amiable  this 
morning." 

"No,  I  am  not,  I'm  sorry  to  say.  I  am  not  quite 
wTell — that  is  the  real  truth  and  must  be  my  ex 
cuse.  Make  it  for  me  or  not  as  you  like." 

MacBirney  walked  downstairs.  After  an  inter 
minable  time,  Alice,  breathing  more  freely,  heard 

242 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly's  car  moving  from  the  door.  When  she 
went  down  herself  she  watched  narrowly  the  ex 
pression  of  her  husband's  face.  But  he  was  plainly 
interested  in  nothing  more  serious  than  Fritzie's 
account  of  the  country  dance.  When  Alice  vent 
ured  to  ask  directly  what  Kimberly's  messages 
were,  he  answered  that  Kimberly  had  given  none. 
With  Fritzie,  Alice  took  a  drive  after  luncheon 
somewhat  easier  in  mind.  Yet  she  reflected  that 
scarcely  twenty-four  hours  had  passed  and  she  al 
ready  found  herself  in  an  atmosphere  of  suspense 
and  apprehension  from  which  there  seemed  no 
escape. 

W7hile  she  was  dressing  that  night,  flowers  from 
The  Towers'  gardens  were  brought  to  Cedar 
Lodge  in  boxfuls,  just  as  they  had  regularly  been 
sent  the  year  before — roses  for  the  tables,  violets 
for  Alice's  rooms,  orchids  for  herself.  If  she  only 
dared  send  them  back!  Not,  she  knew,  that  it 
would  make  any  difference  with  the  sender,  but  it 
would  at  least  express  her  indignation.  She  still 
speculated  as  to  whether  Kimberly  would  dare  to 
tell  her  husband  and  upon  what  would  happen  if 
he  should  tell  him. 

And  her  little  dream  of  publicity  as  an  anti 
dote  !  What  had  become  of  it  already  ?  So  far 
as  Kimberly  was  concerned,  she  now  firmly  be 
lieved  he  was  ready  to  publish  his  attitude  toward 

243 


Robert  Kimberly 

her  to  the  world.  And  she  shrank  with  every 
instinct  from  the  prospective  shame  and  humilia 
tion. 

The  water  about  her  seemed  very  deep  as  she 
reflected,  and  she  felt  singularly  helpless.  She  had 
never  heard  of  a  situation  just  such  as  this,  never 
imagined  one  exactly  like  it.  This  man  seemed 
different  from  every  other  she  had  ever  conceived 
of;  more  frankly  brutal  than  other  brutes  and 
more  to  be  dreaded  than  other  men. 

A  week  passed  before  Kimberly  and  Alice  met. 
It  was  at  Charles  Kimberly's.  Doctor  Bryson,  the 
Nelsons,  and  Fritzie  were  there. 

As  Alice  and  her  husband  came  down,  Charles 
Kimberly  and  Robert  walked  out  of  the  library. 
Robert  bowed  to  MacBirney  and  to  Alice — who 
scarcely  allowed  her  eyes  to  answer  his  greeting. 

"Are  you  always  glad  to  get  back  to  your  own 
country,  Mrs.  Kimberly  ?"  asked  MacBirney  greet 
ing  his  hostess. 

Imogene  smiled.     "Dutifully  glad." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"At  least,  I  come  back  with  the  same  feeling 
of  relief  that  I  am  getting  back  to  democracy." 

"That  is,"  suggested  Lottie  Nelson,  "getting 
back  to  where  you  are  the  aristocracy." 

Dolly,  who  with  her  husband  joined  them  in 
time  to  hear  the  remark,  tossed  her  head.  "I 

244 


Robert  Kimberly 

always  thank  Heaven,  Lottie,  that  we  have  no 
aristocracy  here." 

"But  you  are  wrong,  Dolly,  we  have,"  objected 
Robert  Kimberly  as  the  party  went  into  the 
drawing-room.  "Democracy  is  nothing  but  an 
aristocracy  of  ability.  What  else  can  happen 
when  you  give  everybody  a  chance  ?  We  began 
in  this  country  by  ridding  ourselves  of  an  aristoc 
racy  of  heredity  and  privilege;  and  we  have  only 
succeeded  in  substituting  for  it  the  coldest,  cruelest 
aristocracy  known  to  man — the  aristocracy  of 
brains.  This  is  the  aristocracy  that  controls  our 
manufacturing,  our  transportation,  our  public  ser 
vice  and  our  finance;  it  makes  our  laws  and  appor 
tions  our  taxation.  And  from  this  fell  cause 
alone  our  present  griefs  arise/' 

"  But  you  must  rid  yourself  of  the  grossly  ma 
terial  conception  of  an  aristocracy,  Mr.  Kimberly," 
said  Nelson.  "Our  real  aristocracy,  I  take  it,  is 
not  our  material  one,  as  Robert  Kimberly  insists. 
The  true  aristocrat,  I  hold,  is  the  real  but  mere 
gentleman." 

"Exactly  right,"  assented  De  Castro.  "The 
gentleman  and  nothing  else  is  the  thing." 

"  There  is  nothing  more  interesting  than  the 
gentleman,"  returned  Robert  Kimberly,  "except 
the  gentleman  plus  the  brute.  But  the  exception  is 
enormous,  for  it  supplies  our  material  aristocrat." 

245 


Robert  Kimberly 

"You  must  remember,  though,  that  ideas  of 
superiority  and  inferiority  are  very  tricky,"  com 
mented  Imogene.  "And  they  persist  for  centuries. 
To  the  Naples  beggar,  even  to-day,  the  Germans 
are  '  barbarians.'  And  whenever  I  encounter  the1 
two  I  never  can  decide  which  is  the  aristocrat,  the 
traveller  or  the  beggar." 

"  I  read  your  speech  at  the  New  England  dinner 
last  night,"  said  Imogene,  turning  to  Nelson, 
"and  I  saw  all  the  nice  things  that  were  said  about 
it  this  morning." 

"If  credit  were  due  anywhere  it  would  be  to 
the  occasion,"  returned  Nelson.  "There  is  always 
something  now  in  such  gatherings  to  suggest  the 
discomforting  reflection  that  our  best  native  stock 
is  dying  out." 

Dolly  looked  distressed.  "Oh,  dear,  are  those 
unfortunate  people  still  dying  out  ?  I've  been 
worrying  over  their  situation  for  years.  Can't 
any  one  do  anything?" 

"Don't  let  it  disturb  you,  Mrs.  De  Castro," 
said  Bryson. 

"But  I  am  afraid  it  is  getting  on  my  nerves." 

"Nothing  dies  out  that  doesn't  deserve  to  die 
out,"  continued  Bryson.  "As  to  the  people  Nel 
son  speaks  of,  I  incline  to  think  they  ought  to  die 
out.  Their  whole  philosophy  of  life  has  been 
bad.  Nature  ought  to  be  ashamed,  of  course,  to 

246 


Robert  Kimberly 

pass  them  by  and  turn  to  inferior  races  for  her 
recruits.  But  since  all  races  are  inferior  to  them, 
what  can  she  do  but  take  refuge  with  the  despised 
foreigner  ?  The  men  and  women  that  take  life 
on  the  light-housekeeping  plan  may  do  so  if  they 
will — for  one  generation.  What  may  safely  be 
counted  on  is  that  nature  will  find  its  workers  in 
the  human  hive  even  if  it  has  to  turn  to  the  savage 
tribes." 

"  But  the  poor  savages,  doctor — they  also  are  on 
the  verge  of  extinction,  are  they  not?"  demanded 
Dolly. 

"Then  nature  will  provide  its  workers  from 
one  unfailing  source — from  those  we  have  always 
with  us,  the  poor  and  the  despised.  And  it  can 
be  depended  on  with  equal  certainty  to  cast  the 
satisfied,  cultivated,  and  intellectual  drones  into 
outer  darkness." 

"My  dear,  but  the  doctor  is  savage,  isn't  he?" 

Lottie  Nelson  made  the  appeal  indolently  to  Imo- 

gene.     "We  shall  soon  be   asking,   doctor,"   she 

: concluded    languidly,   "which    tribe    you    belong 


to." 


"He  would  answer,  the  medical  tribe,"  sug 
gested  Fritzie. 

"Speaking  of  savages,"  interposed  Arthur  De 
Castro,  "Charles  and  I  were  making  a  portage 
once  on  the  York  River.  On  the  trail  I  met  two 

247 


Robert  Kimberly 

superb  little  Canadian  lads — straight,  swarthy, 
handsome  fellows.  They  couldn't  speak  English. 
'You  must  be  French/  I  suggested,  addressing 
the  elder  by  way  of  compliment  in  that  tongue. 
Imagine  my  surprise  when  he  answered  with  per 
fect  composure,  'Non,  monsieur.  Nous  sommes 
des  sauvagesP 

"For  my  part,"  said  Imogene,  "I  am  always 
glad  to  hear  Doctor  Bryson  defend  families  and 
motherhood.  I  don't  care  how  savage  he  gets." 

"I  defend  motherhood  because  to  me  it  is  the 
highest  state  of  womanhood.  Merely  as  an  in 
stinct,  its  mysteries  are  a  never-ending  marvel." 

Lottie  Nelson  looked  patiently  bored.  "Oh, 
tell  us  about  them,  do,  doctor." 

"  I  will  tell  you  of  one,"  returned  Bryson  undis 
mayed.  "Take  the  young  mother  that  brings  her 
first  child  into  the  world;  from  the  day  of  its  birth 
until  the  day  of  that  mother's  death,  her  child  is 
never  wholly  out  of  her  thought.  The  child  may 
die,  may  be  forgotten  by  every  one  else  on  earth, 
may  be  to  all  other  conscious  existence  in  this  world 
as  a  thing  that  never  was.  But  in  its  mother's 
heart  it  never  dies.  I  call  that  a  mystery." 

The  doctor's  glance  as  he  finished  fell  on  Alice's 
face.  He  was  sorry  at  once  that  he  had  spoken  at 
all.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  with  a  look  of 
acute  pain. 

248 


Robert  Kimberly 

Alice  hardly  knew  Doctor  Bryson,  but  what  he 
saw  in  the  sadness  of  her  face  he  quite  under 
stood.  And  though  they  had  never  met,  other 
than  in  a  formal  way,  he  never  afterward  felt  that 
they  were  wholly  strangers. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

"T>  Y  the  way,  Nelson,"  said  De  Castro,  "what 
-U  is  there  in  this  story  in  the  afternoon  papers 
about  Doane  and  Dora  Morgan  ?" 

"It  is  substantially  true,  I  fancy.  They  have 
eloped." 

"From  whom  could  they  possibly  be  eloping?" 
asked  Lottie. 

"Why,  you  must  know  Doane  has  a  wife  and  two 
little  girls,"  exclaimed  Dolly  indignantly. 

"I  supposed  his  wife  was  divorced,"  returned 
Lottie  helplessly.  "Why  wasn't  she?" 

"Perhaps,"    suggested    Fritzie,    "there    wasn't 


time." 


"I  don't  care;  Dora's  life  has  been  a  very  un 
happy  one,"  persisted  Lottie,  "and  frankly  I  am 
sorry  for  her." 

"Even  though  she  has  run  away  with  another 
woman's  husband,"  said  Imogene. 

"Don't  you  think  she 'deserves  a  great  deal  of 
sympathy,  Robert?"  asked  Lottie,  appealing  to 
Kimberly. 

"I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  he  answered  slowly. 
250 


Robert  Kimberly 

"What  moves  one  in  any  consideration  of  a  situa 
tion  of  that  kind  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  standards 
of  those  that  fall  into  it.  Who,  for  instance,  can 
scrape  up  any  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  aban 
doned  ?  Or  of  those  who  look  on  irregular  rela 
tions  pretty  much  as  they  do  on  regular  ?  People 
to  enlist  sympathy  in  their  troubles  must  respect 
themselves." 

The  conversation  drifted  and  Alice,  within 
range  of  both  tables,  caught  snatches  of  the  talk 
at  each.  She  presently  heard  Lottie  Nelson  speak 
ing  petulantly,  and  as  if  repeating  a  question  to 
Kimberly.  "What  do  men  most  like,  Robert?" 
Alice  could  not  see  Kimberly's  face,  but  she  under 
stood  its  expression  so  well  that  she  could  imagine 
the  brows  either  luminously  raised  if  Kimberly 
were  interested,  or  patiently  flat  if  he  were  not. 

"You  ought  to  know,"  she  heard  Kimberly 
answer.  "  You  have  been  very  successful  in  pleas 
ing  them." 

"And  failed  where  I  have  most  wanted  to  suc 
ceed.  Oh,  no.  I  am  asking  you.  What  do  they 
like?" 

The  answer  halted.  "I  can't  tell  you.  To  me, 
of  course,  few  men  seem  worth  pleasing." 

"What  should  you  do  to  please  a  man,  if  you 
were  a  woman  ?" 

"Nonsense." 

251 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I'm  asking  purely  out  of  curiosity,"  persisted 
Lottie.  "I  have  failed.  I  realize  it  and  I  shall 
never  try  again.  But  at  the  end — I'd  like  to 
know." 

"You  probably  would  not  agree  with  me," 
answered  Kimberly  after  a  silence,  "most  women 
would  not.  Perhaps  it  would  fail  with  most  men 
— but  as  I  say,  most  men  wouldn't  interest  me, 
anyway.  If  I  had  it  to  try,  I  would  appeal  to  a 
man's  highest  nature." 

"What  is  his  highest  nature?" 

"Whatever  his  best  instincts  are/' 

"And  then?" 

"That's  all." 

"Oh,  nonsense!" 

"No,  it  isn't  nonsense.  Only  I  am  not  good  at 
analyzing.  If  I  once  caught  a  man  in  that  way 
I  should  know  I  had  him  fast  forever.  There  is 
absolutely  no  use  in  flinging  your  mere  tempta 
tions  at  him.  Keep  those  quietly  in  the  back 
ground.  He  will  go  after  them  fast  enough  when 
you  have  made  sure  of  him  on  the  higher  plane. 
If  you  are  compelled  to  display  your  temptations 
at  the  start,  the  case  is  hopeless.  You  have 
surrendered  your  advantage  of  the  high  appeal. 
Trust  him  to  think  about  the  other  side  of  it,  Lottie. 
You  can't  suggest  to  him  anything  he  doesn't  know, 
and  perhaps — I'm  not  sure — he  prefers  to  turn 

252 


Robert  Kimberly 

to  that  side  when  he  thinks  you  are  not  looking. 
The  difficulty  is,"  he  concluded,  speaking  slowly, 
"even  if  you  get  him  from  the  lower  side,  he  won't 
stay  hooked.  You  know  how  a  salmon  strikes  at 
a  fly  ?  All  human  experience  sho\vs  that  a  man 
hooked  from  the  side  of  his  lower  instincts,  will 
sooner  or  later  shake  the  bait." 

"It  must  be  something  even  to  have  him  on  the 
hook  for  a  while,  Robert." 

"  But  you  don't  agree  with  me." 

"No." 

"No  doubt,  I'm  wrong.  And  it  isn't,  I  sup 
pose,  of  much  consequence  whether  the  men  stay 
caught  or  not.  I  look  at  it,  probably,  with  a 
business  instinct.  When  I  do  anything,  I  want  it 
to  stay  done  forever.  When  I  make  a  deal  or 
fasten  a  point  I  wrant  it  to  stay  fastened  for  all 
time.  That  is  my  nature.  Now,  that  may  not 
be  a  woman's  nature.  You  shouldn't  have  asked 
me,  don't  you  see,  because  we  'begin'  differently." 

"I  fancy  that's  it,  Robert.  We  'begin'  differ 
ently." 

r'Try  another  seer — there  is  De  Castro.  Here 
is  Mrs.  MacBirney.  Mrs.  MacBirney,"  Kimberly 
moved  so  he  could  command  Alice's  attention, 
"Mrs.  Nelson  is  trying  to  find  out  what  a  man 
likes  in  a  woman.  I  haven't  been  able  to  tell 

her " 

253 


Robert  Kimberly 

"It  isn't  that  at  all,"  smiled  Lottie,  wearily. 
"Mr.  Kimberly  can  tell.  He  won't." 

Kimberly  appealed  to  Alice.  "  It  is  a  great  mis 
take  not  to  trust  your  oracle  when  he  is  doing  his 
best — don't  you  think  so,  Mrs.  MacBirney  ?" 

"I  suppose  an  oracle  is  consulted  on  his  reputa 
tion — and  it  is  on  his  reputation  that  his  clients 
should  rely,"  suggested  Alice. 

"Anyway,"  declared  Lottie,  rising,  "I  am  go 
ing  to  try  another." 

Kimberly  turned  his  chair  as  she  walked  away 
so  that  he  could  speak  to  Alice.  "Giving  advice  is 
not  my  forte.  Whenever  I  attempt  it  I  disappoint 
somebody;  and  this  time  I  had  a  difficult  sub 
ject.  Mrs.  Nelson  wants  to  know  what  men  like 
in  women.  A  much  more  interesting  subject 
would  be,  what  women  like  in  men.  I  should  sup 
pose,  in  my  blundering  way,  that  sincerity  would 
come  before  everything  else,  Mrs.  MacBirney. 
What  do  you  think  ?" 

"Sincerity  ought  to  be  of  value." 

"  But  there  is  a  great  deal  else,  you  imply." 

"Necessarily,  I  should  think." 

"As,  for  instance  ?" 

"Unselfishness  among  other  things,"  said  Alice. 

He  objected  frankly  to  her  suggestion.  "I  don't 
know  about  unselfishness.  I  have  my  doubts 
about  unselfishness.  Are  you  sure?" 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Most  ideals  include  it,  I  believe." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  have  any  ideals — abstract 
ideals,  that  is.  Though  I  once  took  quite  an  in 
terest  in  the  Catholic  Church." 

"An  academic  interest." 

"No,  no;  a  real  and  concrete  interest.  I  ad 
mire  it  greatly.  I  tried  once  to  look  into  its  claims. 
What  in  part  discouraged  me  was  the  unpleasant 
things  Catholics  themselves  told  me  about  their 
church." 

"They  must  have  been  bad  Catholics." 

"I  don't  know  enough  about  them  to  discrimi 
nate  between  the  good  and  the  bad.  What,  by 
the  way,"  he  asked  bluntly,  "are  you — a  good 
Catholic  or  a  bad  one  ?" 

She  was  taken  for  an  instant  aback;  then  she 
regarded  him  with  an  expression  he  did  not  often 
see  in  her  eyes.  "I  am  a  bad  one,  I  am  ashamed 
to  say." 

"Then  these  I  speak  of  must  have  been  good 
ones,"  he  remarked  at  once,  "because  they  were 
not  in  the  least  like  you." 

If  he  thought  he  had  perplexed  her  he  was  soon 
undeceived.  "There  are  varying  degrees  even  of 
badness,"  she  returned  steadily.  "I  hope  I  shall 
never  fall  low  enough  to  speak  slightingly  of  my 
faith." 

"I  don't  understand,"  he  persisted,  musing, 
255 


Robert  Kimberly 

"why  you  should  fall  at  all.  Now,  if  I  were  a 
Catholic  I  should  be  a  good  one." 

"Suppose  you  become  one." 

He  disregarded  her  irony.  "I  may  sometime. 
To  be  perfectly  frank,  what  I  found  most  lacking 
when  I  looked  into  the  question  was  some  suf 
ficient  inducement.  Of  what  use  ?  I  asked  my 
self.  If  by  following  Christianity  and  its  pre 
cepts  a  man  could  make  himself  anything  more 
than  he  is — prolong  his  years,  or  recall  his  youth. 
If  he  could  achieve  the  Titanic,  raise  himself  to 
the  power  of  a  demigod!"  Kimberly's  eyes  shone 
wide  at  the  thought,  then  they  closed  to  a  con 
trasting  torpor.  "Will  religion  do  this  for  any 
one  ?  I  think  not.  But  fancy  what  that  would 
mean;  never  to  grow  old,  never  to  fall  ill,  never 
to  long  for  without  possessing!"  A  disdainful 
pride  was  manifest  in  every  word  of  his  utterance, 
but  he  spoke  with  the  easy-mannered  good-nature 
that  was  his  characteristic. 

"A  man  that  follows  the  dreams  of  religion," 
he  resumed  but  with  lessening  assurance,  for  Alice 
maintained  a  silence  almost  contemptuous  and  he 
began  to  feel  it,  "is  he  not  subject  to  the  same 
failures,  the  same  pains,  the  same  misfortunes  that 
we  are  subject  to  ?  Even  as  the  rest  of  us,  he  must 
grow  old  and  fail  and  die." 

"Some   men,   of  course,"    she   suggested   with 


Robert  Kimberly 

scant  patience,  "should  have  a  different  dispensa 
tion  from  the  average  mortal/5 

Kimberly  squirmed  dissentingly.  "I  don't  like 
that  phrase,  'the  average  mortal.'  It  has  a  villa- 
nously  hackneyed  sound,  don't  you  think  ?  No, 
for  my  part  I  should  be  willing  to  let  everybody  in 
on  the  greater,  the  splendid  dispensation." 

"You  might  be  sorry  if  you  did." 

"You  mean,  there  are  men  that  should  die — 
some  that  should  die  early?" 

"There  are  many  reasons  why  it  might  not 
work." 

He  stopped.  uThat  is  true — it  might  not  work, 
if  universally  applied.  It  would  do  better  re 
stricted  to  a  few  of  us.  But  no  matter;  since  we 
can't  have  it  at  all,  we  must  do  the  best  we  can. 
And  the  way  to  beat  the  game  as  it  must  be 
played  in  this  world  at  present,"  he  continued 
with  contained  energy,  "is  to  fight  for  what  we 
want  and  defend  it  wrhen  won,  against  all  comers. 
Won't  you  wish  me  success  in  such  an  effort, 
Alice?" 

"I  have  asked  you  not  to  call  me  Alice." 

"  But  wish  me  the  success,  won't  you  ?  It's 
awfully  up-hill  work  fighting  alone.  Two  together 
can  do  so  much  better.  With  two  the  power  is 
raised  almost  to  the  infinite.  Together  we  could 
be  gods — or  at  least  make  the  gods  envy  us." 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  looked  at  him  an  instant  without  a  word, 
and  rising,  walked  to  an  anteroom  whither  Mao 
Birney,  Lottie  Nelson,  De  Castro,  and  Fritzie  had 
gone  to  play  at  cards. 


258 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WHEN  the  season  was  fairly  open  the  Kim- 
berlys  made  Alice  the  recipient  of  every 
attention.  A  solidarity  had  always  seemed,  in  an 
unusual  degree,  to  animate  the  family.  They 
were  happy  in  their  common  interests  and  their 
efforts  united  happily  now  to  make  Alice  a 
favored  one  in  their  activities. 

In  everything  proposed  by  Dolly  or  Imogene, 
Alice  was  consulted.  When  functions  were  ar 
ranged,  guests  lists  were  submitted  to  her.  En 
tertainment  was  decided  upon  after  Alice  had 
been  called  in.  The  result  was  a  gay  season  even 
for  Second  Lake.  And  Dolly  said  it  was  the 
influx  of  Alice's  new  blood  into  the  attenuated 
strain  at  the  lake  that  accounted  for  the  success 
ful  summer.  Alice  herself  grew  light-hearted.  In 
social  affairs  the  battalions  inclined  to  her  side. 
Even  Lottie  Nelson  could  not  stand  out  and  was 
fain  to  make  such  peace  as  she  could. 

In  all  of  this  Alice  found  consolation  for  the  neg 
lect  of  her  husband.  She  had  begun  to  realize  that 
this  neglect  was  not  so  much  a  slight,  personal 


Robert  Kimberly 

to  her,  as  a  subordination  of  everything  to  the 
passion  for  money-getting.  It  is  impossible  to  re 
main  always  angry  and  Alice's  anger  subsided  in 
the  end  into  indifference  as  to  what  her  husband 
said  or  did. 

She  had,  moreover — if  it  were  a  stimulus — the 
continual  stimulus  of  Kimberly's  attitude.  With 
out  insincerity  or  indifference  he  accommodated 
his  interest  in  her  to  satisfactory  restraint.  This 
gave  Alice  the  pleasure  of  realizing  that  her  firm 
ness  had  in  nowise  estranged  him  and  that  without 
being  turbulent  he  was  always  very  fond  of  her. 
She  knew  he  could  look  to  many  other  women  for 
whatever  he  chose  to  ask  of  favor,  yet  apparently  he 
looked  to  her  alone  for  his  pleasure  in  womankind; 
and  in  a  hundred  delicate  ways  he  allowed  her  to 
feel  this. 

A  handsome  young  Harvard  man  came  to  her 
at  the  lake  seeking  an  opening  in  the  refineries. 
His  people  were  former  Colorado  acquaintances 
whom  Alice  was  extremely  desirous  of  obliging. 
She  entertained  her  visitor  and  tried  vainly  to  in 
terest  her  husband  in  him.  MacBirney  promised 
but  did  nothing,  and  one  day  Dolly  calling  at 
Cedar  Lodge  found  Alice  writing  a  note  to  the 
college  boy,  still  waiting  in  town  on  MacBirney's 
empty  promises,  telling  him  of  the  failure  of  her 
efforts  and  advising  him  not  to  wait  longer. 

260 


Robert  Kimberly 

"  But  why  worry  ? "  asked  Dolly,  when  Alice  told 
her.  "Speak  to  Robert  about  it.  He  will  place 
him  within  twenty-four  hours." 

"I  can't  very  well  ask  a  favor  of  that  kind  from 
Mr.  Kimberly,  Dolly." 

"What  nonsense!     Why  not  ?" 

Alice  could  not  say  precisely  why.  "After  my 
own  husband  hasn't  found  a  way  to  place  him!" 
she  exclaimed. 

Dolly  did  not  hesitate.  "I  will  attend  to  it. 
Give  me  his  address.  Football,  did  you  say  ? 
Very  good." 

Within  a  week  the  young  man  wrote  Alice — 
from  the  Orange  River  refineries,  where  he  was, 
he  picturesquely  said,  knee-deep  in  sugar — that 
he  had  actually  been  before  the  sugar  magnate, 
Robert  Kimberly  himself,  adding  with  the  im 
petuous  spelling  of  a  football  man,  that  the  in 
terview  had  been  so  gracious  and  lasted  so  long 
he  had  grown  nervous  about  the  time  Mr.  Kim 
berly  was  giving  him. 

Kimberly  never  referred  to  the  matter  nor  did 
Alice  ever  mention  it  to  him.  It  was  merely 
pleasant  to  think  of.  And  in  such  evidences  as 
the  frequent  letters  from  her  protege  she  read  her 
influence  over  the  man  who,  even  the  chronicle  of 
the  day  could  have  told  her,  had  she  needed  the 
confirmation,  extorted  the  interest  of  the  world 

261 


Robert  Kimberly 

in  which  he  moved;  and  over  whom,  apparently, 
no  woman  other  than  herself  could  claim  influence. 

She  came  tacitly  to  accept  this  position  toward 
Kimberly.  Its  nature  did  not  compromise  her 
conscience  and  it  seemed  in  this  way  possible  both 
to  have  and  not  have.  She  grew  to  lean  upon  the 
thought  of  him  as  one  of  the  consoling  supports  in 
her  whirling  life — the  life  in  which  reflection  never 
reached  conclusion,  action  never  looked  forward 
to  result,  and  denial  had  neither  time  nor  place. 

The  pursuit  of  pleasure,  sweetened  by  that 
philanthropy  and  the  munificent  almsgiving  which 
was  so  esteemed  by  those  about  her,  made  up 
her  life.  Alice  concluded  that  those  of  her  circle 
severely  criticised  by  many  who  did  not  know 
them,  did  much  good.  Their  failings,  naturally, 
would  not  condemn  them  with  critics  who,  like 
herself,  came  in  contact  with  them  at  their  best. 

Some  time  after  the  placing  of  the  young  college 
man,  Alice,  running  in  one  morning  on  Dolly 
found  her  in  tears.  She  had  never  before  seen 
Dolly  even  worried  and  was  at  once  all  solicitude. 
For  one  of  the  very  few  times  in  her  life,  it  ap 
peared,  Dolly  had  clashed  with  her  brother  Robert. 
Nor  could  Alice  get  clearly  from  her  what  the 
difference  had  been  about.  All  that  was  evident 
to  Alice  was  that  Dolly  was  very  much  grieved  and 
mortified  over  something  Kimberly  had  said  or 

262 


Robert  Kimberly 

done,  or  refused  to  say  or  do,  concerning  a  dis 
tinguished  actress  who  upon  finishing  an  Ameri 
can  tour  was  to  be  entertained  by  Dolly. 

Alice  in  the  afternoon  was  over  at  Imogene's. 
Robert  Kimberly  was  there  with  his  brother. 
Afterward  he  joined  Imogene  and  Alice  under  the 
elms  and  asked  them  to  drive.  While  Imogene 
went  in  to  make  ready  Alice  poured  a  cup  of  tea 
for  Kimberly.  "I  suppose  you  know  you  have 
made  Dolly  feel  very  bad,"  she  said  with  a  color 
of  reproach. 

Kimberly  responded  with  the  family  prudence. 
"Have  I?"  Alice  handed  him  the  tea  and  he 
asked  another  question.  "What,  pray,  do  you 
know  about  it  ?" 

"Nothing  at  all  except  that  she  is  hurt,  and  that 
I  am  sorry." 

"She  didn't  tell  you  what  the  difference  was?" 

"Except  that  it  concerned  her  coming  guest." 

"I  offered  Dolly  my  yacht  for  her  week.  She 
wanted  me  to  go  with  the  party.  Because  I  de 
clined,  she  became  greatly  incensed." 

"She  thought,  naturally,  you  ought  to  have 
obliged  her." 

"I  pleaded  I  could  not  spare  the  time.  She 
has  the  Nelsons  and  enough  others,  anyway." 

"Her  answer,  of  course,  is  that  your  time  is  your 


own." 


261 


Robert  Kimberly 

"But  the  fact  is,  her  guest  made  the  request. 
Dolly  without  consulting  me  promised  I  would  go, 
and  now  that  I  will  not  she  is  angry." 

"I  should  think  a  week  at  sea  would  be  a  di 
version  for  you/' 

"To  tag  around  a  week  in  heavy  seas  with 
wraps  after  a  person  of  distinction  ?  And  pace 
the  deck  with  her  on  damp  nights  ?" 

"That    is    unamiable.       She    is    a    very   great 


actress." 


Kimberly  continued  to  object.  "Suppose  she 
should  be  seasick.  I  once  went  out  with  her  and 
she  professed  to  be  ill  every  morning.  I  had  to 
sit  in  her  cabin — it  was  a  stuffy  yacht  of  De 
Castro's — and  hold  her  hand." 

"But  you  are  so  patient.  You  would  not  mind 
that." 

"Oh,  no;  I  am  not  in  the  least  patient.  The 
Kimberlys  are  described  as  patient  when  they  are 
merely  persistent.  If  I  am  even  amiable,  amia 
bility  is  something  quite  other  than  patience. 
Patience  is  almost  mysterious  to  me.  Francis  is 
the  only  patient  man  I  ever  have  known." 

"  In  this  case  you  are  not  even  amiable.  We  all 
have  to  do  things  we  don't  want  to  do,  to  oblige 
others.  And  Dolly  ought  to  be  obliged." 

"Very  well.  If  you  will  go,  I  will.  What  do 
you  say  ?" 

264 


Robert  Kirnberly 

"You  need  not  drag  me  in.  I  shall  have  guests 
of  my  own  next  week.  If  Dolly  made  a  mistake 
about  your  inclination  in  the  affair  it  would  be 
only  generous  to  help  her  out." 

"Very  well,  I  will  go." 

"Now  you  are  amiable." 

"They  can  put  in  at  Bar  Point  and  I  will  join 
them  for  the  last  two  days.  I  will  urge  McEntee, 
the  captain,  to  see  that  they  are  all  sick,  if  possi 
ble,  before  I  come  aboard.  Then  they  will  not 
need  very  much  entertaining." 

"How  malicious!" 

"Not  a  bit.  Dolly  is  a  good  sailor.  Her  guest 
cares  nothing  for  me.  It  is  only  to  have  an  Ameri 
can  at  her  heels." 

"They  say  that  no  one  can  resist  her  charm. 
You  may  not  escape  it  this  time." 

A  fortnight  passed  before  any  news  came  to 
Alice  from  the  yachting  party.  Then  Fritzie  came 
home  from  Nelsons'  one  day  with  an  interesting 
account  of  the  trip.  Until  the  story  was  all  told, 
Alice  felt  gratified  at  having  smoothed  over  Dolly's 
difficulty. 

"They  were  gone  longer  than  they  expected," 
said  Fritzie.  "Robert  was  having  such  a  good 
time.  Lottie  Nelson  tells  me  Dolly's  guest  made 
the  greatest  sort  of  a  hit  with  Robert.  He  didn't 
like  her  at  first.  Then  she  sang  a  song  that  at- 

265 


Robert  Kimberly 

tracted  him,  and  he  kept  her  singing  that  song 
all  the  time.  He  sat  in  a  big  chair  near  the  piano 
and  wouldn't  move.  The  funny  thing  was,  she 
was  awfully  bored  the  way  he  acted.  By  the  way, 
you  must  not  miss  the  golf  to-morrow.  Every 
body  will  be  out." 

Alice  hardly  heard  the  last  words.  She  was 
thinking  about  Kimberly's  entertaining  the  celeb 
rity.  Every  other  incident  of  the  voyage  had  been 
lost  upon  her.  When  she  found  herself  alone  her 
disappointment  and  resentment  were  keen.  Some 
unaccountable  dread  annoyed  her.  He  was  then, 
she  reflected,  like  all  other  men,  filled  with  mere 
professions  of  devotion. 

Something  more  disturbed  her.  The  incident 
revealed  to  her  that  he  had  grown  to  be  more 
in  her  thoughts  than  she  realized.  Racks  and 
thumb-screws  could  not  have  dragged  from  her  the 
admission  that  she  was  interested  in  him.  It  was 
enough  that  he  professed  to  be  devoted  to  her 
and  had  been  led  away  by  the  first  nod  of  another 
woman. 


266 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  golf  course  and  the  casino  were  crowded 
next  day  when  Alice  arrived.  Yet  among 
the  throng  of  men  and  women,  her  interest  lay 
only  in  the  meeting  of  one,  as  in  turn  his  interest 
in  all  the  summer  company  lay  only  in  seeking 
Alice.  She  had  hardly  joined  Imogene  and  the 
lake  coterie  when  Kimberly  appeared. 

The  players  had  driven  off  and  the  favorites,  of 
whom  there  were  many,  could  already  be  trailed 
across  the  hills  by  their  following.  When  the 
"out"  score  had  been  posted,  De  Castro  suggested 
that  the  party  go  dow^n  to  the  tenth  hole  to  follow 
the  leaders  in. 

A  sea-breeze  tempered  the  sunshine  and  the 
long,  low  lines  of  the  club-house  were  gayly  deco 
rated.  Pavilions,  spread  here  and  there  among 
the  trees,  gave  the  landscape  a  festival  air. 

On  the  course,  the  bright  coloring  of  groups  of 
men  and  women  moving  across  the  fields  made 
a  spectacle  changing  every  moment  in  brilliancy. 

Kimberly  greeted  Alice  with  a  gracious  expect 
ancy.  He  was  met  with  a  lack  of  response  noth- 

267 


Robert  Kimberly 

ing  less  than  chilling.  Surprised,  though  fairly 
seasoned  to  rebuffs,  and  accepting  the  unexpected 
merely  as  a  difficulty,  Kimberly  set  out  to  be  enter 
taining. 

His  resource  in  this  regard  was  not  scanty  but  to 
day  Alice  succeeded  in  taxing  his  reserves.  In  his 
half-mile  tramp  with  her  in  the  "gallery,"  punc 
tuated  by  occasional  halts,  he  managed  but  once 
to  separate  her  from  the  others.  The  sun  annoyed 
him.  Alice  was  aware  of  his  lifting  his  straw  hat 
frequently  to  press  his  handkerchief  to  beads  of 
perspiration  that  gathered  on  his  swarthy  fore 
head,  but  she  extended  no  sympathy. 

In  spite  of  his  discomfort,  however,  his  eyes 
flashed  with  their  accustomed  spirit  and  his  dogged 
perseverance  in  the  face  of  her  coldness  began  to 
plead  for  itself.  When  the  moving  "gallery"  had 
at  last  left  them  for  an  instant  behind,  Kimberly 
dropped  on  a  bench  under  the  friendly  shade  of 
a  thorn  apple  tree. 

"Sit  down  a  moment,  do,"  he  begged,  "until  I 
get  a  breath." 

"Do  you  find  it  warm?" 

"Not  at  all,"  he  responded  with  negligible  irony. 
"It  is  in  some  respects  uncommonly  chilly."  He 
spoke  without  the  slightest  petulance.  "For 
Heaven's  sake,  tell  me  what  I  have  done!" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 
268 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I  mean,  you  are  not  kind  in  your  manner 
toward  me.  I  left  you — I  hoped  you  would 
remember — to  do  a  favor  for  you " 

"For  me?"  Her  tone  was  not  in  the  least 
reassuring. 

"At  least,  I  conceived  it  to  be  for  you,"  he 
replied. 

"That  is  a  mistake." 

"Very  good.  Let  us  call  it  mistake  number 
one.  I  spent  five  days  with  Dolly  and  her 
guests : 

"Guests,"  repeated  Alice,  lingering  slightly  on 
the  word,  as  she  poked  the  turf  slowly  with  her 
sunshade,  "or  guest?" 

"Guest!"  he  echoed,  "Ah!"  He  paused. 
"Who  has  put  me  wrong  in  so  simple  a  matter? 
What  I  did  was  no  more  than  to  be  agreeable  to 
Dolly's  guests.  I  spent  much  time  with  the  guest 
of  honor  at  Dolly's  repeated  requests.  She  hap 
pened  to  sing  a  song  that  pleased  me  very  much, 
for  one  particular  reason;  it  was  your  lovely  little 
Italian  air;  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  it  brought 
back  pleasant  moments.  Since  she  could  do 
nothing  else  that  was  so  pleasing,"  he  continued, 
"I  kept  her  singing  the  song.  She  became  bored 
and  naturally  ceased  to  be  good-natured.  Then, 
Dolly  asked  me  to  run  around  by  Nantucket, 
which  we  could  have  done  in  two  days.  Not  to 

260 


Robert  Kimberly 

be  churlish,  I  consented.  Then  the  coal  gave  out, 
which  took  another  day." 

"What  a  mishap!  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  the 
trip  went  pleasantly." 

"If  you  are,  something  has  gone  wrong  with 
you " 

"Nothing  whatever,  I  can  assure  you." 

"You  are  offended  with  me." 

"I  assure  you  I  am  not." 

"I  assure  you,  you  are."  He  took  the  sunshade 
from  her  hand.  "You  remember  the  fable  about 
the  man  that  tried  to  oblige  everybody?  He 
wasn't  a  refiner — he  was  a  mere  miller.  At  the 
start  I  really  did  my  best  for  three  days  to  enter 
tain  Dolly's  lovely  vampire  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  she  made  a  face  at  me — and  wound  up  by 
telling  Dolly  my  head  was  full  of  another  woman. 
Then — to  be  quite  shamefully  frank — I  had  to 
dodge  Lottie  Nelson's  apologies  for  her  un 
pleasant  temper  on  an  evening  that  you  remem 
ber;  altogether  my  lot  was  not  a  happy  one.  My 
head  was  full  of  another  woman.  You  remember 
you  said  nobody  could  resist  her  charm  ?  I 
thought  of  it-  What  is  charm  ?  I  often  asked 
myself.  I  saw  nothing  of  charm  in  that  charming 
woman.  Who  can  define  it?  But  penetration! 
She  could  read  you  like  a  printed  book.  We 
talked  one  night  of  American  women.  I  dared  to 

270 


Robert  Kimberly 

say  they  were  the  loveliest  in  the  world.  She  grew 
incensed.  'They  know  absolutely  nothing!'  she 
exclaimed.  'That  is  why  we  like  them'  I  an 
swered.  'They  are  innocent;  you  are  as  corrupt 
as  I  am.'  Then  she  would  call  me  a  hypocrite." 
He  stopped  suddenly  and  Alice  felt  his  eyes  keenly 
upon  her.  "Is  it  possible  you  do  not  believe  what 
I  am  saying?" 

"Innocent  women  believe  whatever  they  are 
told." 

"I  don't  deserve  sarcasm.  I  am  telling  the 
simple  truth.  For  once  I  am  wholly  at  fault, 
Alice.  I  don't  know  what  the  matter  is.  What 
has  happened  ?" 

"Nothing  has  happened;  only  to-day  I  seem 
especially  stupid." 

"Are  you  as  frank  with  me  as  I  am  with  you  ?" 

She  made  no  answer.  He  drew  back  as  if 
momentarily  discouraged.  "If  you  no  longer  be 
lieve  me — what  can  I  do?" 

"  It  isn't  at  all  that  I  do  not  believe  you — what 
difference  should  it  make  whether  or  no  I  believe 
you  ?  Suppose  I  were  frank  enough  to  admit  that 
something  I  heard  of  you  had  disappointed  me  a 
little.  What  credit  should  I  have  for  comment 
ing  on  what  in  no  way  concerns  me  ?" 

"Anything  heard  to  my  discredit  should  be  care 
fully  received.  Believe  the  best  of  me  as  long  as 

271 


Robert  Kimberly 

you  can.  It  will  never  be  necessary,  Alice,  for 
any  one  to  tell  you  I  am  unworthy;  when  that  day 
comes  you  will  know  it  first  from  me.  And  if  I  ever 
am  unworthy,  it  will  not  be  because  I  willed  to 
be — only  because  through  my  baseness  I  never 
could  know  what  it  means  to  be  worthy  of  a 
woman  far  above  me." 

She  reached  out  her  hand  for  her  sunshade  but 
he  refused  to  give  it  back.  She  tried  to  rise;  he 
laid  his  hand  on  her  arm.  "A  moment!  It  was 
about  me,  was  it?"  he  continued.  "Did  you  re 
ceive  it  cautiously  ?  Put  me  in  your  position. 
How  do  you  think  one  would  fare  who  came  to 
me  with  anything  to  your  discredit  ?  Think  of 
it,  Alice — how  do  you  think  one  would  fare — look 


at  me." 


She  looked  up  only  for  an  instant  and  as  if  in 
protest.  But  in  spite  of  herself  something  in  her 
own  eyes  of  confidence  in  him,  some  tribute  to  his 
honesty,  stood  revealed,  and  inspired  him  with  a 
new  courage. 

"You  say  what  you  hear  of  me  does  not  con 
cern  you.  Anything  you  hear  of  me  does  concern 
you  vitally."  His  intensity  frightened  her,  and 
thinking  to  escape  him,  she  still  sat  motionless. 

"Everything  I  do,  important  or  trivial,  has  its 
relation  to  you.  Do  you  believe  me  ?  Alice,  you 
must  believe  me.  You  do  believe  me.  How  can 

272 


Robert  Kimberly 

you  say  that  anything  you  hear  of  me  does  not 
concern  you  ?  It  concerns  you  above  every  liv 
ing  person.  It  concerns  your  happiness 

"Such  wildness — such  extravagance!"  she  ex 
claimed  trying  to  control  her  fear. 

"I  tell  you  I  am  neither  wild  nor  extravagant. 
Our  happiness,  our  very  lives  are  bound  up  to 
gether.  It  isn't  that  I  say  to  you,  you  are  mine — 
I  am  yours." 

The  furious  beating  of  her  heart  would  not  be 
stilled.  "How  can  you  say  such  things!" 

"I  say  them  because  I  can't  escape  your  in 
fluence  in  my  life.  I  only  want  to  come  up  to  where 
you  are — not  to  drag  you  down  to  where  I  am — to 
where  I  have  been  condemned  to  be  from  the  cradle. 
If  what  you  hear  of  me  conflicts  with  what  I  say 
to  you,  believe  nothing  of  what  you  hear."  His 
words  fell  like  blow^s.  "If  I  could  show  you  my 
very  heart  I  could  not  be  more  open.  It  is  you 
who  are  everything  to  me — you  alone." 

Breathless  and  rigid  she  looked  away.  Hardly 
breathing  himself,  Kimberly  watched  her.  Her 
lip  quivered.  "Oh,  my  heart!"  he  murmured. 
But  in  the  words  she  heard  an  incredible  tender 
ness.  It  moved  her  where  intensity  had  failed. 
It  stilled  the  final  pangs  of  revolt  at  his  words. 
She  drifted  for  an  instant  in  a  dream.  New  and 
trembling  thoughts  woke  in  a  reluctant  dawn  and 

273 


Robert  Kimberly 

glowed  in  her  heart  like  faint,  far  streamers  of  a 
new  day. 

"Oh,  my  heart!"  The  words  came  again,  as 
if  out  of  another  world.  She  felt  her  hand  taken 
by  a  strong,  warm  hand.  "Do  you  tremble  for 
me  ?  Is  my  touch  so  heavy  ?  How  shall  I  ever 
safeguard  the  flower  of  your  delicacy  to  my 
clumsiness  ?" 

She  neither  breathed  nor  moved.  "No  matter. 
You  will  teach  me  how,  Alice.  Learning  how 
you  can  be  happiest,  I  shall  be  happiest.  I  feel 
beggared  when  I  lay  my  plea  before  you.  What 
are  all  my  words  unless  you  breathe  life  upon 
them  ?  A  few  things — not  many — I  have  succeeded 
in.  And  I  succeeded, "the  energy  of  success  echoed 
in  his  confession,  "only  because  I  let  nothing  of 
effort  stand  between  me  and  the  goal.  You  have 
never  been  happy.  Let  me  try  to  succeed  with 
your  happiness." 

A  silence  followed,  golden  as  the  moment. 
Neither  felt  burdened.  About  them  was  quiet 
and  the  stillness  seemed  to  flow  from  the  hush  of 
their  thoughts. 

"It  is  easy  for  you  to  speak,"  she  faltered  at 
last,  "too  easy  for  me  to  listen.  I  am  unhappy 
— so  are  many  women;  many  would  be  strong 
enough  never  to  listen  to  what  you  have  said.  I 
myself  should  be  if  I  were  what  you  picture  me. 

274 


Robert  Kimberly 

And  that  is  where  all  the  trouble  lies.  You  mis 
take  me;  you  picture  to  yourself  an  Alice  that 
doesn't  exist.  If  I  could  return  your  interest 
I  should  disappoint  you.  I  am  not  depreciating 
myself  to  extort  compliments — you  would  supply 
them  easily,  I  know.  Only — I  know  myself  bet 
ter  than  you  know  me." 

"What  you  say,"  he  responded,  "might  have 
point  if  I  were  a  boy — it  would  have  keen  point. 
While  to  me  your  beauty — do  not  shake  your 
head  despairingly — your  beauty  is  the  delicacy  of 
girlhood,  you  yourself  are  a  woman.  You  have 
known  life,  and  sorrow.  I  cannot  lead  you  as  a 
fairy  once  led  you  from  girlhood  into  womanhood 
— would  that  I  could  have  done  it!  He  should  be 
a  very  tender  guide  who  does  that  for  a  woman. 

"But  I  can  lead  you,  I  think,  Alice,  to  every 
thing  in  this  world  that  consoles  a  woman  for 
what  she  gives  to  it.  Do  not  say  I  do  not  know 
you — that  is  saying  I  do  not  know  myself,  men, 
women,  life — it  is  saying  I  know  nothing.  Modest 
as  I  am,"  he  smiled  lightly,  "I  am  not  yet  ready 
to  confess  to  that.  I  do  know;  as  men  that  have 
lived  and  tasted  and  turned  away  and  longed  and 
waited,  know — so  I  know  you.  And  I  knew  from 
the  moment  I  saw  you  that  all  my  happiness  in 
this  world  must  come  from  you." 

"Oh,  I  am  ashamed  to  hear  you  say  that.  I 
275 


Robert  Kimberly 

am  ashamed  to  hear  you  say  anything.  What 
base  creature  am  I,  that  I  have  invited  you  to 
speak!"  She  turned  and  looked  quickly  at  him, 
but  with  fear  and  resolve  in  her  eyes.  "This  you 
must  know,  here  and  now,  that  I  can  never  be, 
not  if  you  kill  me,  another  Dora  Morgan." 

He  met  her  look  with  simple  frankness.  "The 
world  is  filled  with  Dora  Morgans.  If  you  could 
be,  Alice,  how  could  I  say  to  you  what  I  never 
have  said,  or  thought  of  saying,  to  any  Dora  Mor- 
gan?" 

"To  be  a  creature  would  kill  me.  Do  not  be 
deceived — I  know." 

"Or  do  worse  than  kill  you.  No,  you  are  like 
me.  There  is  no  half-way  for  you  and  me.  Every 
thing — or  nothing!" 

She  rose  to  her  feet.  He  saw  that  she  sup 
ported  herself  for  a  moment  with  one  hand  still 
on  the  bench  rail.  He  took  her  other  hand  within 
his  own  and  drew  her  arm  through  his  arm. 

It  was  the  close  of  the  day.  The  sun,  setting, 
touched  the  hills  with  evening,  and  below  the  dis 
tant  Towers  great  copses  of  oak  lay  like  islands  on 
the  mirrored  landscape.  They  walked  from  the 
bench  slowly  together.  "  Just  a  little  help  for  the 
start,"  he  murmured  playfully  as  he  kept  her  at 
his  side.  "The  path  is  a  new  one.  I  shall  make 
it  very  easy  for  your  feet." 

276 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

"T  HOPE  you  rested  well  after  your  excitement," 
JL  said  Kimberly  to  Alice,  laughing  reassuringly 
as  he  asked.  It  was  the  day  following  their  part 
ing  at  the  golf  grounds.  He  had  driven  over  to 
Cedar  Lodge  and  found  Alice  in  the  garden 
waiting  for  Dolly.  The  two  crossed  the  terrace 
to  a  sheltered  corner  of  the  garden  overlooking  the 
bay  where  they  could  be  alone.  After  Alice  had 
seated  herself  Kimberly  repeated  his  question. 

She  regarded  him  long  and  thoughtfully  as  she 
answered,  and  with  a  sadness  that  was  unexpected: 
"I  did  not  rest  at  all.  I  do  not  even  yet  under 
stand — perhaps  I  never  shall — why  I  let  you  talk 
to  me  in  that  wild,  wild  way.  But  if  I  did  not 
rest  last  night,  I  thought.  I  am  to  blame — I 
know  that — as  much  as  you  are.  Don't  tell  me. 
I  am  as  much  to  blame  as  you  are.  But  this 
cannot  go  on." 

His  eyes  were  upon  her  hands  as  they  lay  across 
flowers  in  her  lap.  He  took  a  spray  from  her 
while  she  spoke  and  bent  his  look  upon  it.  She 
was  all  in  white  and  he  loved  to  see  her  in  white. 
In  it  she  fulfilled  to  him  a  dream  of  womanhood. 

277 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I  ought  to  ask  you  what  you  mean  when  you 
say  and  think  these  fearful  things,"  she  went  on, 
waiting  for  him  to  lift  his  eyes.  "  I  ought  to  ask 
you;  but  you  do  not  care  what  it  means,  at  least 
as  far  as  you  are  concerned.  And  you  never  ask 
yourself  what  it  means  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

He  replied  with  no  hesitation.  "I  began  ask 
ing  myself  that  question  almost  the  first  time  I 
ever  saw  you.  I  have  asked  myself  nothing  else 
ever  since.  It  means  for  both  of  us  exactly  the 
same  thing;  for  you,  everything  you  can  ask  that 
I  can  give  you;  for  me,  everything  I  can  give  you 
that  you  can  ask." 

"If  there  were  no  gulf  between  us — but  there  is. 
And  even  if  what  you  say  were  true,  you  can  see 
how  impossible  it  would  be  for  me  to  say  those 
words  back  to  you." 

He  looked  at  the  spray.  "Quite  true;  you 
cannot.  But  I  shall  ask  so  little — less  of  you 
than  of  any  woman  in  the  world.  And  you  will 
give  only  what  you  can,  and  when  you  can.  And 
you  alone  are  to  be  the  judge  of  what  you  can 
give  and  when,  until  our  difficulties  are  worked 
out. 

"I  shall  only  show  you  now  that  I  can  be 
patient.  I  never  have  been — I  have  confessed  to 
that.  Now  I  am  going  to  the  test.  Meantime,  you 
don't  realize,  Alice,  quite,  how  young  you  are, 

278 


Robert  Kimberly 

do  you  ?  Nor  how  much  in  earnest  I  am.  Let 
us  turn  to  that  for  a  while." 

From  a  shrub  at  his  side  he  plucked  sprigs 
of  rosemary  and  crushed  them  with  the  spray. 
"Even  love  never  begins  but  once.  So,  for  every 
hour  that  passes,  a  memory;  for  every  hour  that 
tarries,  a  happiness;  for  every  hour  that  comes, 
a  hope.  Do  you  remember?" 

"I  read  it  on  your  sun-dial." 

"Every  one  may  read  it  there.  Where  I  want 
you  to  read  it  is  in  my  heart." 

"I  wonder  whether  it  is  most  what  you  say,  or 
the  way  in  which  you  say  it,  that  gets  people  into 
trouble?" 

"On  the  contrary;  my  life  has  been  spent  in 
getting  people  out  of  trouble,  and  in  waiting  to  say 
things  to  you." 

''You  are  improving  your  opportunity  in  that 
respect.  And  you  are  losing  a  still  more  delight 
ful  opportunity,  for  you  don't  know  how  much 
relief  you  can  give  me  by  leaving  most  of  them 
unsaid." 

"  It  is  impossible,  of  course,  to  embrace  all  of 
our  opportunities — often  impossible  to  embrace 
the  cause  of  them." 

"Don't  pick  me  up  in  that  way,  please." 

He  held  his  hands  over  hers  and  dropped  the 
crushed  rosemary  on  them  "Would  that  I  could 

279 


Robert  Kimberly 

in  any  way.  Since  I  cannot,  let  me  annoy 
you." 

Dolly  appeared  at  a  distance,  and  they  walked 
down  the  terrace  to  meet  her.  She  kissed  Alice. 
"What  makes  you  look  so  girlish  to-day?  And 
what  is  all  this  color  around  your  eyes  ?  Never 
wear  anything  but  white.  I  never  should  myself," 
sighed  Dolly.  "You  know  Alice  and  I  are  off  for 
the  seashore/'  she  added,  turning  to  her  brother. 

"So  I  hear." 

"Come  along." 

"Who  is  going?" 

"Everybody,  I  suppose.  They  all  know  about 
the  trip." 

"Where  do  you  dine?" 

"On  the  shore  near  the  light-house.  Arthur 
is  bringing  some  English  friends  out  from  town; 
we  are  going  to  dance." 

That  night  by  the  sea  Kimberly  and  Alice 
danced  together.  He  held  her  like  a  child,  and 
his  strength,  which  for  a  moment  startled  her,  was 
a  new  charm  when  she  glided  across  the  long, 
half-lighted  floor  within  his  arm.  Her  grace  re 
sponded  perfectly  to  the  ease  with  which  he  led, 
and  they,  stopped  only  when  both  were  breathing 
fast,  to  stroll  out  on  the  dark  pier  and  drink  in  the 
refreshment  of  the  night  wind  from  the  ocean. 

They  remained  out  of  doors  a  long  time,  talk- 
280 


Robert  Kimberly 

ing  sometimes,  laughing  sometimes,  walking  some 
times,  sometimes  sitting  down  for  a  moment  or 
kneeling  upon  the  stone  parapet  benches  to  listen 
to  the  surf  pounding  below  them.  When  they 
went  in,  he  begged  her  again  to  dance.  Not 
answering  in  words  she  only  lifted  her  arm  with 
a  smile.  Making  their  way  among  those  about 
them  they  glided,  he  in  long,  undulating  steps, 
she  retreating  in  swift,  answering  rhythm,  touch 
ing  the  floor  as  lightly  as  if  she  trod  on  air. 

"This  plume  in  your  hat," he  said  as  they  moved 
on  and  on  to  the  low,  sensuous  strains  of  the 
music,  "it  nods  so  lightly.  Where  do  you  carry 
your  wings  ?" 

The  very  effort  of  speaking  was  exhilarating. 
"It  is  you,"  she  answered,  "who  are  supplying 
the  wings." 

The  gayety  of  the  others  drew  them  more  closely 
together.  Little  confidences  of  thought  and  feel 
ing — in  themselves  nothing,  in  their  unforbid- 
den  exchange  everything — mutual  confessions  of 
early  impressions  each  of  the  other,  compliments 
more  eagerly  ventured  and  ignored  now  rather 
than  resented.  Surprise  read  in  each  other's  eyes, 
dissent  not  ungracious  and  denial  that  only  laugh 
ingly  denied — all  went  to  feed  a  secret  happiness 
growing  fearfully  by  leaps  and  bounds  into  ties 
that  never  could  be  broken. 

281 


Robert  Kimberly 

The  dance  with  its  exhilaration,  the  plunging 
of  her  pulse  and  her  quick,  deep  breathing,  shone 
in  Alice's  cheeks  and  in  her  eyes.  The  two  laughed 
at  everything;  everything  colored  their  happiness 
because  everything  was  colored  by  it. 

The  party  drove  home  after  a  very  late  supper, 
Alice  heavily  wrapped  and  beside  Dolly  in  Kim- 
berly's  car.  Entertainments  for  the  English  party 
followed  for  a  week  and  were  wound  up  by  Kim 
berly  with  an  elaborate  evening  for  them  at  The 
Towers.  For  the  first  time  in  years  the  big  house 
was  dressed  en  fete  and  the  illuminations  made  a 
picture  that  could  be  seen  as  far  as  the  village. 

Twenty-four  sat  at  The  Towers  round  table  that 
night.  Alice  herself  helped  Dolly  to  pair  the  guests 
and  philosophically  assigned  her  husband  to  Lot 
tie  Nelson.  Kimberly  complimented  her  upon  her 
arrangement. 

"Why  not  ?"  she  asked  simply,  though  not  with 
out  a  certain  bitterness  with  which  she  always 
spoke  of  her  husband.  "People  with  tastes  in 
common  seem  to  drift  together  whether  you  pair 
them  or  not." 

They  were  standing  in  an  arbor  and  Kimberly 
was  plucking  grapes  for  her. 

"He  is  less  than  nothing  to  me,"  she  continued, 
"as  you  too  well  know — or  I  should  not  be  here 
now  eating  your  grapes." 

282 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Your  grapes,  Alice.  Everything  here  is  yours. 
I  haven't  spoken  much  about  our  difficulties — 
'our'  difficulties!  The  sweetness  of  the  one  word 
blots  out  the  annoyance  of  the  other.  But  you 
must  know  I  shall  never  rest  until  you  are  installed 
here  with  all  due  splendor  as  mistress,  not  alone 
of  the  grapes,  but  of  all  you  survey,  for  this  is  to 
be  wholly  and  simply  yours.  And  if  I  dare  ask 
you  now  and  here,  Alice — you  whose  every  breath 
is  more  to  me  than  the  thought  of  all  other  wom 
en — I  want  you  to  be  my  wife." 

Her  lips  tightened.  "And  I  am  the  wife  of 
another  man — it  is  horrible." 

He  heard  the  tremor  in  her  tone.    "  Look  at  me." 

"I  cannot  look  at  you." 

"When  you  are  free " 

"Free!"  Her  voice  rising  in  despair,  fell  again 
into  despair.  "I  shall  never  be  free." 

"You  shall,  and  that  speedily,  Alice!"  She 
could  imagine  the  blood  surging  into  Kimberly's 
neck  and  face  as  he  spoke.  "I  am  growing  fear 
ful  that  I  cannot  longer  stand  the  thought  of  his 
being  under  the  same  roof  with  you." 

"He  cannot  even  speak  to  me  except  before 
Annie." 

Kimberly  paused.  "I  do  not  like  it.  I  want 
it  changed." 

"How  can  I  change  it?" 
283 


Robert  Kimberly 

"We  shall  find  a  way,  and  that  very  soon,  ta 
arrange  your  divorce  from  him." 

"It  is  the  one  word,  the  one  thought  that 
crushes  me."  She  turned  toward  him  as  if  with 
a  hard  and  quick  resolve.  "You  know  I  am  a 
Catholic,  and  you  know  I  am  ashamed  to  say 


it." 


"Ashamed?" 

"I  have  disgraced  my  faith." 

"Nonsense,  you  are  an  ornament  to  any 
faith." 

"Do  not  say  that!"  She  spoke  with  despairing 
vehemence.  "You  don't  realize  how  grotesque 
it  sounds.  If  what  you  say  were  true  I  should 
not  be  here." 

He  drew  himself  up.  There  was  a  resentful 
note  in  his  tone.  "I  did  not  suppose  myself  such 
a  moral  leper  that  it  would  be  unsafe  for  any  one 
to  talk  to  me.  Other  Catholics — and  good  ones 
— talk  to  me,  and  apparently  without  contamina- 


tion." 


"  It  is  only  that  I  have  no  right  to.  Now  you 
are  going  to  be  angry  with  me." 

He  saw  her  eyes  quiver.  "God  forbid!  I 
misunderstood.  And  you  are  sensitive,  dearest." 

"I  am  sensitive,"  she  said  reluctantly.  "More 
than  ever,  perhaps,  since  I  have  ceased  practis 
ing  my  religion." 

284 


Robert  Kimberly 

"But  why  have  you  ceased  ?" 

Her  words  came  unwillingly.  "I  could  not 
help  it." 

"Why  could  you  not  help  it?" 

"You  ask  terribly  hard  questions." 

"You  must  have  wanted  to  give  it  up." 

"I  did  not  want  to.     I  was  forced  to." 

"Who  could  force  you?" 

He  saw  what  an  effort  it  cost  her  to  answer. 
The  words  were  dragged  from  her.  "I  could  not 
live  with  my  husband  and  practise  it." 

"So  much  the  more  reason  for  quitting  him, 
isn't  it?" 

"Oh,  I  want  to.  I  want  to  be  free.  If  I  only 
could." 

"Alice,  you  speak  like  one  in  despair.  There 
is  nothing  to  be  so  stirred  about.  You  want  to  be 
free,  I  want  you  to  be,  you  shall  be.  Don't  get 
excited  over  the  matter  of  a  divorce.  Your  eyes 
are  like  saucers  at  the  thought.  Why?" 

"Only  because  for  me  it  is  the  final  disgrace — 
not  to  be  separated  from  him — but  to  marry  again 
with  him  alive!  It  means  the  last  step  for  me. 
And  the  public  scandal!  What  will  they  say  of 
me,  who  knew  me  at  home  r" 

"Alice,  this  is  the  wildest  supersensitiveness. 
The  whole  world  lives  in  divorced  marriages. 
Public  scandal  ?  No  one  will  ever  hear  of  your 

285 


Robert  Kimberly 

divorce.  The  courts  that  grant  your  plea  will 
attend  to  suppressing  everything/' 

"Not  everything!" 

"Why  not?  We  abase  them  every  day  to  so 
many  worse  things  that  their  delicate  gorges  will 
not  rise  at  a  little  favor  like  that." 

She  looked  at  him  gravely.  "What  does  the 
world  say  of  you  for  doing  such  things?" 

"I  never  ask.  You  know,  of  course,  I  never 
pay  any  attention  to  what  the  world  says  of  any 
thing  I  do.  Why  should  I  ?  It  would  be  diffi 
cult  for  the  world  to  despise  me  as  much  as  I 
despise  it.  You  don't  understand  the  world.  All 
you  need  is  my  strength.  I  felt  that  from  the  very 
first — that  if  I  could  give  you  my  strength  the  com 
bination  would  be  perfect.  That  is  why  I  am  so 
helplessly  in  love  with  you — my  strength  must  be 
yours.  I  want  to  put  you  on  a  throne.  Then  I 
stand  by,  see  ? — and  guard  your  majesty  with  a 
great  club.  And  I  can  do  it." 

They  laughed  together,  for  he  spoke  guardedly, 
as  to  being  heard  of  others,  but  with  ominous  en 
ergy.  "I  believe  you  could,"  murmured  Alice. 

"Don't  worry  over  your  religion.  I  will  make 
you  practise  it.  I  will  make  a  devotee  of  you." 

"Robert!   Robert!" 

He  stooped  for  her  hand  and  in  spite  of  a  little 
struggle  would  not  release  it  until  he  had  kissed 

286 


Robert  Kimberly 

it.     "Do  you  know  it  is  the  first  time  my  name 
has  ever  passed  your  lips?"  he  murmured. 

She  was  silent  and  he  went  on  with  another 
thought.  "Alice,  I  don't  believe  you  are  as  bad 
a  Catholic  as  you  think.  I'll  tell  you  why.  I 
have  known  Catholic  women,  and  men,  too,  that 
have  given  up  their  religion.  Understand,  I  know 
nothing  about  your  religion,  but  I  do  know  some 
thing  about  men  and  women.  And  when  they 
begin  elaborate  explanations  they  think  they  de 
ceive  me.  In  matter  of  fact,  they  deceive  only 
themselves.  When  they  begin  to  talk  about  prog 
ress,  freedom  of  thought,  decay  of  dogmas,  in 
dividual  liberty  and  all  that  twaddle,  and  assume 
a  distinctly  high,  intellectual  attitude,  even  though 
I  don't  know  what  they  have  given  up,  I  know 
what  they  are  assuming;  I  get  their  measure  in 
stantly.  I've  sometimes  thought  that  when  God 
calls  us  up  to  speak  on  judgment  day  He  will 
say  in  the  most  amiable  manner:  'Just  tell  your 
own  story  in  your  own  way/  And  that  our  own 
stories,  told  in  our  own  way,  will  be  all  the  data 
He  will  need  to  go  ahead  on.  Indeed,  He  would 
not  always  need  divine  prescience  to  see  through 
them;  in  most  cases  mere  human  insight  would 
be  enough.  Just  listen  to  the  ordinary  story  of 
the  ordinary  man  and  notice  how  out  of  his  own 
mouth  he  condemns  himself.  I  see  that  sort  of 

287 


Robert  Kimberly 

posturing  every  day  in  weak-kneed  men  and  worn 
en  who  want  to  enlist  large  sums  of  money  to 
float  magnificent  schemes.     Now  you  are  honesC 
with  yourself  and  honest  with  me,  and  I  see  in 
this  a  vital  difference/' 

They  walked  back  through  the  garden  and  en 
countered  Brother  Francis  who  was  taking  the 
air.  Kimberly  stopped  him.  Nelson  and  Imo- 
gene  joined  the  group.  "Ah,  Francis!"  exclaimed 
Imogene,  "have  they  caught  you  saying  your 
beads?" 

"Not  this  time,  Mrs.  Kimberly." 

"Come  now,  confess.     What  were  you  doing?" 

Brother  Francis  demurred  and  protested  but 
there  was  no  escape.  He  pointed  to  The  Towers. 
"  I  came  out  to  see  the  beautiful  illumination.  It 
is  very  beautiful,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  But  that  isn't  all,  for  when  we  came  along  you 
were  looking  at  the  sky." 

"Ah,  the  night  is  so  clear — the  stars  are  so  strong 
to-night 

"Go  on." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Italy." 


288 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

"T  NEVER  can  catch  Brother  Francis,  thinking 
A  of  anything  but  Italy,"  remarked  Kimberly. 

"Who  can  blame  him?"   exclaimed  Imogene. 

"Or  the  hereafter,"  added  Kimberly. 

Nelson  grunted.  "I'm  afraid  he  doesn't  find 
much  sympathy  here  on  that  subject/'  he  ob 
served,  looking  from  one  to  another. 

"Don't  be  mistaken,  Nelson,"  said  Kimberly, 
"7  think  about  it,  and  Francis  will  tell  you  so.  I 
have  already  made  tentative  arrangements  with 
him  on  that  score.  Francis  is  to  play  Lazarus  to 
my  Dives.  When  I  am  in  hell  I  am  to  have  my 
cup  of  cold  water  from  him.  And  remember, 
Francis,  if  you  love  me,  the  conditions.  Don't 
forget  the  conditions;  they  are  the  essence  of  the 
contract.  I  am  to  have  the  water  one  drop  at  a 
time.  Don't  forget  that;  one  drop  at  a  time. 
Eternity  is  a  long,  long  while." 

Francis,  ill  at  ease,  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  to 
compose  himself. 

"Your  role  doesn't  seem  altogether  to  your 
liking,  Francis,"  suggested  Imogene. 

280 


Robert  Kimberly 

"His  role!  Why,  it's  paradise  itself  compared 
to  mine,"  urged  Kimberly. 

Brother  Francis  drew  his  handkerchief  and 
wiped  his  nose  very  simply.  "I  pray,  Robert," 
he  said,  "that  you  may  never  be  in  hell." 

"But  keep  me  in  your  eye,  Francis.  Don't 
relax  your  efforts.  A  sugar  man  is  liable  to 
stumble  and  fall  in  while  your  back  is  turned." 

"We  must  get  started  for  the  lake,"  announced 
Imogene.  "Brother  Francis,  we  are  all  going 
down  to  see  The  Towers  from  the  water.  Will 
you  come  ?" 

Francis  excused  himself,  and  his  companions 
joined  the  other  guests  who  were  gathering  at  the 
water.  Oarsmen  were  waiting  with  barges  and 
fires  burned  from  the  pillars  of  the  esplanade. 
As  the  boats  left  the  shore,  music  came  across 
the  water.  Alice,  with  Kimberly,  caught  a  glimpse 
of  her  husband  in  a  passing  boat.  "Having  a 
good  time?"  he  cried.  For  answer  she  waved 
her  hand. 

"Are  you  really  having  a  good  time  ?"  Kimber 
ly  asked.  "I  mean,  do  you  care  at  all  for  this 
kind  of  thing  ? " 

"  Of  course,  I  care  for  it.  Who  could  help  it  ? 
It  is  lovely.  Where  are  we  going  ?" 

"Down  the  lake  a  mile  or  two;  then  the  boats 
will  return  for  the  fireworks." 

ono 


Robert  Kimberly 

r'You  don't  seem  very  lively  yourself  to-night. 
Are  you  bored  ?" 

"No;  only  wondering  whether  you  will  go 
driving  with  me  to-morrow." 

"I  said  I  would  not." 

"I  hoped,  of  course,  you  might  reconsider." 

He  did  not  again  press  the  subject  of  the  drive, 
but  when  they  were  walking  up  the  hill  after  the 
rockets  and  showers  of  gold  falling  down  the  dark 
sky,  she  told  him  he  might  come  for  her  the  next 
day.  "I  don't  know  how  it  is,"  she  murmured, 
"  but  you  always  have  your  own  way.  You  wind 
me  right  around  your  finger." 

He  laughed.  "If  I  do,  it  is  only  because  I 
don't  try  to." 

"I  realize  it;   that  is  what  puzzles  me." 

"The  real  secret  is,  not  that  I  wind  you  around 
my  finger,  but  that  you  don't  want  to  hurt  my 
feelings.  I  find  something  to  wonder  at,  too. 
When  I  am  with  you — even  when  you  are  any 
where  near  me,  I  am  totally  different.  Alone,  I 
am  capable  of  withdrawing  wholly  within  my 
self.  I  am  self-absorbed  and  concentrated.  With 
you  I  am  never  wholly  within  myself.  I  am, 
seemingly,  partly  in  your  consciousness." 

Alice  shook  her  head.  "It  is  true,"  he  per 
sisted.  "It  is  one  of  the  consequences  of  love;  to 
be  drawn  out  of  one's  self.  I  have  it."  He 

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Robert  Kimberly 

turned   to  her,   questioningly,   "Can  you   under 
stand  it?" 

"I  think  so." 

"But  do  you  ever  feel  it?" 

"Sometimes." 

"Never,  of  course,  for  meP* 

"Sometimes." 


292 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

"'""ir^HIS  is  a  courtship  without  any  spring,"  said 
A     Dolly   one  night  to  her  husband.     They 
were    discussing    her    brother    and    Alice.     "At 
first  it  was  all  winter,  now  it  is  all  summer." 

She  thought  they  showed  themselves  together  too 
much  in  public,  and  their  careless  intimacy  was, 
in  fact,  outwardly  unrestrained. 

Not  that  Dolly  was  censorious.  Her  philosophy 
found  refuge  in  fatalism.  And  since  what  is  to 
be  must  be — especially  where  the  Kimberlys  were 
concerned — why  worry  over  the  complications  ? 
Seemliness,  however,  Dolly  held,  was  to  be  re 
garded,  and  concerning  this  she  felt  she  ought  to 
be  consulted.  The  way  to  be  consulted  she  had 
long  ago  learned  was  to  find  fault. 

But  if  she  herself  reproved  Kimberly  and  Alice, 
Dolly  allowed  no  one  else  to  make  their  affairs  a 
subject  of  comment.  Lottie  Nelson,  who  could 
never  be  wholly  suppressed,  was  silenced  when 
occasion  offered.  One  afternoon  at  The  Hick 
ories,  Alice's  name  being  mentioned,  Lottie  asked 
whether  Robert  was  still  chasing  her. 

293 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Chasing  her?"  echoed  Dolly  contemptuously 
and  ringing  the  changes  on  the  objectionable  word, 
"Of  course;  why  shouldn't  he  chase  her?  Who 
else  is  there  to  chase  ?  He  loves  the  excitement 
of  the  hunt;  and  who  else  around  here  is  there  to 
hunt?  The  other  women  hunt  him.  No  man 
wants  anything  that  comes  tumbling  after  him. 
What  we  want  is  what  we  can't  get;  or  at  least 
what  we're  not  sure  of  getting." 

Kimberly  and  Alice  if  not  quite  unconscious  of 
comment  were  at  least  oblivious  of  it.  They 
motored  a  great  deal,  always  at  their  own  will, 
and  they  accounted  to  no  one  for  their  excursions. 

"They  are  just  a  pair  of  bad  children,"  said 
Imogene  to  Dolly.  "And  they  act  like  children." 

One  of  their  diversions  in  their  rambling  drives 
was  to  stop  children  and  talk  with  them  or  ask 
questions  of  them.  One  day  near  Sunbury  they 
encountered  a  puny,  skeleton-faced  boy,  a  high 
way  acquaintance,  wheeling  himself  along  in  an 
invalid  chair. 

They  had  never  hitherto  talked  with  this  boy 
and  they  now  stopped  their  car  and  backed  up. 
Alice  usually  asked  the  questions.  "I  thought 
you  lived  away  at  the  other  end  of  the  village, 
laddie?" 

"Yes'm,  I  do." 

"You  haven't  wheeled  yourself  all  this  way?" 
294 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Yes'm." 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  that  you  can't 
walk,  Tommie  ?"  demanded  Kimberly. 

"My  back  is  broken." 

Alice  made  a  sympathetic  exclamation.  "My 
dear  little  fellow — I'm  very  sorry  for  you!" 

The  boy  smiled.     "Oh,  don't  be  sorry  for  me." 

"Not  sorry  for  you  ?" 

"I  have  a  pretty  good  time;  it's  my  mother — 
I'm  sorry  for  her." 

"Ah,  indeed,  your  mother!"  echoed  Alice,  struck 
by  his  words.  "I  am  sorry  for  both  of  you  then. 
And  how  did  you  break  your  back?" 

"In  our  yard — climbing,  ma'am." 

"Poor  devil,  he's  not  the  first  one  that  has 
broken  his  back  climbing,"  muttered  Kimberly, 
taking  a  note  from  his  waistcoat.  "Give  him 
something,  Alice." 

"As  much  as  this?"  cried  Alice  under  her 
breath,  looking  at  the  note  and  at  Kimberly. 

"Why  not?  It's  of  no  possible  use  to  us,  and 
it  will  be  a  nine-months'  wonder  in  that  little 
household." 

Alice  folded  the  note  up  and  stretched  her  white- 
gloved  hand  toward  the  boy.  "Take  this  home 
to  your  mother." 

"Thank  you.  I  can  make  little  baskets,"  he 
added  shyly. 

295 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Can  you?"    echoed  Alice,  pleased.     "Would 
you  make  one  for  me  ?" 

"I  will  bring  one  up  to  your  house  if  you  want 


me  to." 


"That  would  be  too  far!  And  you  don't  know 
where  I  live." 

The  boy  looked  at  the  green  and  black  car  as  if 
he  could  not  be  mistaken.  "Up  at  The  Towers, 


ma'am.'3 


Brice,  who  took  more  than  a  mild  interest  in  the 
situation,  grinned  inwardly. 

Kimberly  and  Alice  laughed  together.  "Very 
well;  bring  it  to  The  Towers,"  directed  Kimber 
ly,  "I'll  see  that  she  gets  it." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  see  here;  don't  lose  that  note,  Tommie. 
By  Heavens,  he  handles  money  more  carelessly 
than  I  do.  No  matter,  wait  till  his  mother  sees 


it." 


While  they  were  talking  to  the  boy,  Dolly  drove 
up  in  her  car  and  stopped  a  moment  to  chat  and 
scold.  They  laughed  at  her  and  she  drove  away 
as  if  they  were  hopeless. 

"Your  sister  is  the  dearest  woman,"  remarked 
Alice  as  Dolly's  car  disappeared.  "I  am  so  fond 
of  her,  I  believe  I  am  growing  like  her." 

"Don't  grow  too  like  her." 

"Why  not?" 

206 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Dolly  has  too  much  heart.  It  gets  her  into 
trouble." 

"She  says  you  have  too  much,  yourself." 

"I've  paid  for  it,  too;   I've  been  in  trouble." 

"And  I  shall  be,  if  you  don't  take  me  home 
pretty  soon." 

"Don't  let  us  go  home  as  long  as  we  can  go 
anywhere  else,"  pleaded  Kimberly.  "When  we 
go  home  we  are  separated." 

He  often  attempted  to  talk  with  Alice  of  her 
husband.  "Does  he  persecute  you  in  any  way  ?" 
demanded  Kimberly,  trying  vainly  to  get  to  de 
tails. 

Alice's  answer  was    always    the    same.     "Not 


now." 


"But  he  used  to?"    Kimberly  would  persist. 

"Don't  ask  me  about  that." 

"If  he  ever  should  lay  a  hand  en  you, 
Alice " 

"Pray,  pray,"  she  cried,  "don't  look  like  that. 
And  don't  get  excited;  he  is  not  going  to  lay  a 
hand  on  me." 

They  did  not  reach  Cedar  Lodge  until  sun 
down  and  when  they  drove  up  to  the  house  Mac- 
Birney,  out  from  town,  was  seated  on  the  big 
porch  alone.  They  called  a  greeting  to  him  as 
they  slowed  up  and  he  answered  in  kind.  Kim 
berly,  without  any  embarrassment,  got  out  to 

207 


Robert  Kimberly 

assist  Alice  from  the  car.  The  courtesy  of  his 
manner  toward  her  seemed  emphasized  in  Mac- 
Birney's  presence. 

On  this  night,  it  was,  perhaps,  the  picture  of 
Kimberly  standing  at  the  door  of  his  own  car 
giving  his  hand  to  MacBirney's  wife  to  alight,  that 
angered  the  husband  more  than  anything  that 
had  gone  before.  Kimberly's  consideration  for 
Alice  was  so  pronounced  as  completely  to  ignore 
MacBirney  himself. 

The  small  talk  between  the  two  when  Alice 
alighted,  the  laughing  exchanges,  the  amiable 
familiarity,  all  seemed  to  leave  no  place  in  the 
situation  for  MacBirney,  and  were  undoubtedly 
meant  so  to  be  understood.  Kimberly  good- 
humoredly  proffered  his  attentions  to  that  end 
and  Alice  could  now  accept  them  with  the 
utmost  composure. 

Fritzie  had  already  come  over  to  Cedar  Lodge 
from  Imogene's  for  dinner  and  Kimberly  returned 
afterward  from  The  Towers,  talking  till  late  in  the 
evening  with  MacBirney  on  business  affairs.  He 
then  drove  Fritzie  back  to  The  Cliffs. 

MacBirney,  smarting  with  the  stings  of  jeal 
ousy,  found  no  outlet  for  his  feeling  until  he 
wras  left  alone  with  his  wife.  It  was  after  eleven 
o'clock  when  Alice,  reading  in  her  sitting-room, 
heard  her  husband  try  the  door  connecting  from 


Robert  Kimberly 

his  apartments.  Finding  it  bolted,  as  usual, 
MacBirney  walked  out  on  the  loggia  and  came  into 
her  room  through  the  east  door  which  she  had 
left  open  for  the  sea-breeze.  He  was  smoking  and 
he  sat  down  on  a  divan.  Alice  laid  her  book  on 
her  knee. 

It  was  a  moment  before  he  spoke.  "You  seem 
to  be  making  Kimberly  a  pretty  intimate  member 
of  the  family,"  he  began. 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so?    Charles  or  Robert?" 

"You  know  very  well  who  I  mean." 

"If  you  mean  Robert,  he  is  a  familiar  in  every 
family  circle  around  the  lake.  It  is  his  way,  isn't 
it  ?  I  don't  suppose  he  is  more  intimate  here  than 
at  Lottie's,  is  he  ?  Or  at  Dolly's  or  Imogene's  ?" 

"They  are  his  sisters,"  returned  MacBirney, 
curtly. 

"'Lottie  isn't.  And  I  thought  you  wanted  me 
rather  to  cultivate  Robert,  didn't  you,  Walter?" 
asked  Alice  indifferently. 

He  was  annoyed  to  be  reminded  of  the  fact  but 
made  no  reply. 

"Robert  is  a  delightfully  interesting  man,"  con 
tinued  Alice  recklessly,  "don't  you  think  so?" 

MacBirney  returned  to  the  quarrel  from  an 
other  quarter.  "Do  you  know  how  much  money 
you  have  spent  here  at  Cedar  Lodge  in  the  last 
four  months  ?" 


Robert  Kimberly 

Alice  maintained  her  composure.  "I  haven't 
an  idea." 

He  paused.  "I  will  tell  you  how  much,  since 
you're  so  very  superior  to  the  subject.  Just  twice 
as  much  as  we  spent  the  first  five  years  we  were 
married." 

"Quite  a  difference,  isn't  it?" 

"It  is — quite  a  difference.  And  the  difference 
is  reckless  extravagance.  You  seem  to  have  lost 
your  head." 

"Suppose  it  is  reckless  extravagance!  What 
do  you  mean  to  say — that  I  spent  all  the  money  ? 
This  establishment  is  of  your  choosing,  isn't  it  ? 
And  have  you  spent  nothing  ?  How  do  you  ex 
pect  to  move  in  a  circle  of  people  such  as  live  around 
this  lake  without  reckless  extravagance?" 

"By  using  a  little  common-sense  in  your  ex 
penditures." 

For  some  moments  they  wrangled  over  various 
details  of  the  menage.  Alice  at  length  cut  the 
purposeless  recrimination  short.  "You  spoke  of 
the  first  five  years  we  were  married.  You  know 
I  spent  literally  nothing  the  first  five  years  of 
our  married  life.  You  continually  said  you  were 
trying  'to  build  up.'  That  was  your  cry  from 
morning  till  night,  and  like  a  dutiful  wife,  I  wore 
my  own  old  clothes  for  the  first  two  years.  Then 
the  next  three  years  I  wore  made-over  hats  and 

300 


Robert  Kimberly 

hunted  up  ready-made  suits  to  enable  you  to 
'build  up/" 

"Yes,"  he  muttered,  "and  we  were  a  good  deal 
happier  then  than  we  are  now." 

She  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "Do  speak 
for  yourself,  Walter.  You  were  happier,  no 
doubt.  I  can't  remember  that  you  ever  gave  me 
any  chance  to  be  happy." 

"Too  bad  about  you.  You  look  like  a  poor, 
unhappy  thing — half-fed  and  half-clothed." 

"Now  that  you  have  'built  up,':>  continued 
Alice,  "and  brought  me  into  a  circle  not  in  the 
least  of  my  choosing,  and  instructed  me  again 
and  again  to  'keep  our  end  up/  you  complain 
of  'reckless  extravagance.' ' 

"Well,  for  a  woman  that  I  took  with  a  travelling 
suit  from  a  bankrupt  father,  and  put  at  the  head 
of  this  establishment,  you  certainly  can  hold 
your  'end  up,'  "  laughed  MacBirney  harshly. 

"Just  a  moment,"  returned  Alice,  with  angry 
eyes.  "You  need  not  taunt  me  about  my  father. 
When  you  wrere  measuring  every  day  the  sugar 
and  coffee  we  were  to  use  during  the  first  five 
years  of  our  married  life,  you  should  have  fore 
seen  you  couldn't  move  as  a  millionaire  among 
multimillionaires  without  spending  a  lot  of  money." 

MacBirney  turned  white.  "Thank  you  for  re 
minding  me,"  he  retorted,  with  shining  teeth,  "of 

301 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  thrift  of  which  you  have  since  had  the  advan 
tages." 

"Oh  dear,  no,  Walter.  The  advantages  of  that 
kind  of  thrift  are  purely  imaginary.  The  least 
spark  of  loving-kindness  during  those  years  would 
have  been  more  to  me  than  all  the  petty  meannesses 
necessary  to  build  up  a  fortune.  But  it  is  too 
late  to  discuss  all  this." 

MacBirney  could  hardly  believe  his  ears.  He 
rose  hastily  and  threw  himself  into  another  chair. 
" You've  changed  your  tune  mightily  since  'the 
first  five  years  of  our  married  life/  "  he  said. 

Alice  tossed  her  head. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  understand,  /  haven't." 

"I  believe  that!" 

"And  I've  brought  you  to  time  before  now,  with 
all  of  your  high  airs,  and  I'll  do  it  again." 

"Oh,  no;   not  again." 

"I'll  teach  you  who  is  master  under  this  roof." 

"How  like  the  sweet  first  five  years  that  sounds!" 

He  threw  his  cigar  angrily  away.  "  I  know  ex 
actly  what's  the  matter  with  you.  You  have  run 
around  with  this  lordly  Kimberly  till  he  has  turned 
your  head.  Now  you  are  going  to  stop  it,  now 
and  here!" 

"Am  I?" 

"You  are." 

"Hadn't  you  better  tell  Mr.  Kimberly  that  ?" 

302 


Robert  Kimberly 

"  I  will  tell  you,  you  are  getting  yourself  talked 
about,  and  it  is  going  to  stop.  Everybody  is 
talking  about  you." 

Alice  threw  back  her  head.  "So?  Where  did 
you  hear  that?" 

"Lambert  told  me  yesterday." 

"  I  hope  you  were  manly  enough  to  defend  your 
wife.  Where  did  you  see  Lambert?" 

"I  saw  him  in  town." 

"  I  shouldn't  listen  to  silly  gossip  from  Lambert, 
and  I  shouldn't  see  Lambert  again." 

"How  long  have  you  been  adviser  as  to  whom 
I  had  better  or  better  not  see?"  asked  MacBir- 
ney  contemptuously. 

"  You  will  find  me  a  good  adviser  on  some  points 
in  your  affairs,  and  that  is  one." 

"If  you  value  your  advice  highly,  you  should 
part  with  it  sparingly." 

"I  know  what  you  value  highly;  and  if  Robert 
Kimberly  finds  out  you  are  consorting  with  Lam 
bert  it  will  end  your  usefulness  in  his  combina 
tions  very  suddenly." 

The  thrust,  severe  in  any  event,  was  made  keener 
by  the  fact  that  it  frightened  him  into  rage. 
"Since  you  come  from  a  family  that  has  made  such 
a  brilliant  financial  showing — "  he  began. 

"Oh,  I  know,"  she  returned  wearily,  "but  you 
had  better  take  care."  He  looked  at  his  wife 

303 


Robert  Kimberly 

astounded.  "You  have  insulted  me  enough,"  she 
added  calmly,  "about  the  troubles  of  my  father. 
The  'first  five  years'  are  at  an  end.  I  have  spoiled 
you,  Walter,  by  taking  your  abuse  so  long  with 
out  striking  back  and  I  won't  do  it  any  more." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  cried,  springing  from 
his  chair.  "Do  you  think  you  are  to  keep  your 
doors  bolted  against  me  for  six  months  at  a  time 
and  then  browbeat  and  abuse  me  when  I  come 
into  your  room  to  talk  to  you  ?  Who  paid  for 
these  clothes  you  wear?"  he  demanded,  pointing 
in  a  fury. 

"  I  try  never  to  think  of  that,  Walter,"  replied 
Alice,  rising  to  her  feet  but  controlling  herself 
more  than  she  could  have  believed  possible.  "I 
try  never  to  think  of  the  price  I  have  paid  for 
anything  I  have;  if  I  did,  I  should  go  mad  and 
strip  these  rags  from  my  shoulders." 

She  stood  her  ground  with  flashing  eyes.  "/, 
not  you,"  she  cried,  "have  paid  for  what  I  have 
and  the  clothes  I  wear.  7  paid  for  them — not 
you — with  my  youth  and  health  and  hopes  and 
happiness.  I  paid  for  them  with  the  life  of  my 
little  girl;  with  all  that  a  wretched  woman  can 
sacrifice  to  a  brute.  Paid  for  them!  God  help  me! 
How  haven't  I  paid  for  them  ? " 

She  stopped  for  sheer  breath,  but  before  he 
could  find  words  she  spoke  again.  "Now,  I  am 

304 


Robert  Kimberly 

done  with  you  forever.  I  am  out  of  your  power 
forever.  Thank  God,  some  one  will  protect  me 
from  your  brutality  for  the  rest  of  my  life " 

MacBirney  clutched  the  back  of  a  chair.  "So 
you  have  picked  up  a  lover,  have  you  ?  This 
sounds  very  edifying  from  my  dear,  dutiful,  re 
ligious  wife."  Hardly  able  to  form  the  words  be 
tween  his  trembling  lips,  he  smiled  horribly. 

She  turned  on  him  like  a  tigress.  "No,"  she 
panted,  "no!  I  am  no  longer  your  religious  wife. 
It  wasn't  enough  that  I  should  go  shabby  and 
hungry  to  make  you  rich.  Because  I  still  had 
something  left  in  my  miserable  life  to  help  me 
bear  your  cruelty  and  meanness  you  must  take 
that  away  too.  What  harm  did  my  religion  do 
you  that  you  should  ridicule  it  and  sneer  at  it  and 
threaten  and  abuse  me  for  it  ?  You  grudged  the 
few  hours  I  took  from  your  household  drudgery 
to  get  to  church.  You  promised  before  you  mar 
ried  me  that  our  children  should  be  baptized  in  my 
faith,  and  then  refused  baptism  to  my  dying  baby." 

Her  words  rained  on  him  in  a  torrent.  "You 
robbed  me  of  my  religion.  You  made  me  live  in 
continual  sin.  When  I  pleaded  for  children,  you 
swore  you  would  have  no  children.  When  I  told 
you  I  was  a  mother  you  cursed  and  villified  me." 

"Stop!"  he  screamed,  running  at  her  with  an 
oath. 

305 


Robert  Kimberly 

The  hatred  and  suffering  of  years  were  com 
pressed  into  her  moment  of  revolt.  They  flamed 
in  her  cheeks  and  burned  in  her  eyes  as  she  cried 
out  her  choking  words.  "Stop  me  if  you  dare!" 
she  sobbed,  watching  him  clench  his  fist.  "If  you 
raise  your  hand  I  will  disgrace  you  publicly,  now, 
to-night!" 

He  struck  her.  She  disdained  even  to  protect 
herself  and  crying  loudly  for  Annie  fell  backward. 
Her  head  caught  the  edge  of  the  table  from  which 
she  had  risen. 

Annie  ran  from  the  bedroom  at  the  sound  of 
her  mistress's  voice.  But  when  she  opened  the 
boudoir  door,  Alice  was  lying  alone  and  uncon 
scious  on  the  floor. 


306 


CHAPTER  XXX 

SHE  revived  only  after  long  and  anxious  min 
istrations  on  Annie's  part.  But  with  the  re 
turn  of  her  senses  the  blood  surged  again  in  her 
veins  in  defiance  of  her  husband.  Her  first 
thought  was  one  of  passionate  hatred  of  him, 
and  the  throbbing  pain  in  her  head  from  her  fall 
against  the  table  served  to  sharpen  her  resentment. 

MacBirney,  possessed  of  enough  craft  to  slip 
away  from  an  unpleasant  situation,  returned  early 
to  town,  only  hoping  the  affair  would  blow  over, 
and  still  somewhat  dazed  by  the  amazing  rebel 
lion  of  an  enduring  wife. 

He  realized  that  a  storm  might  break  now  at 
any  moment  over  his  head.  Always  heavily  com 
mitted  in  the  speculative  markets,  he  well  under 
stood  that  if  Kimberly  should  be  roused  to  ven 
geance  by  any  word  from  Alice  the  consequences 
to  his  own  fortune  might  be  appalling. 

It  chanced  that  Kimberly  wTas  away  the  follow 
ing  day  and  Alice  had  twenty-four  hours  to  let  her 
wrath  cool.  Two  days  of  reflection  were  enough. 
The  sense  of  her  shame  and  her  degradation  as  a 


Robert  Kimberly 

woman  at  the  hands  of  a  man  so  base  as  her  hus 
band  were  alone  enough  to  suggest  moderation  in 
speaking  to  Kimberly  of  the  quarrel. 

But  more  than  this  was  to  be  considered.  What 
would  Kimberly  do  if  she  told  him  everything  ? 
A  scandalous  encounter,  even  a  more  serious 
issue  between  the  two  men  was  too  much  to 
think  of.  She  felt  that  Kimberly  was  capable  in 
anger  of  doing  anything  immoderate  and  it  was 
better  by  far,  her  calmer  judgment  told  her,  to 
bury  her  humiliation  in  her  own  heart  than  to 
risk  something  worse.  She  was  now,  she  well 
knew,  with  this  secret,  a  terror  to  her  cowardly 
husband,  just  as  he  had  been,  through  a  nightmare 
of  wretched  years,  her  own  terror. 

For  the  first  time,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second 
day,  she  found  herself  awaiting  with  burning  im 
patience  some  word  from  The  Towers.  She  had 
resolved  what  to  say  to  Kimberly  and  wanted  now 
to  say  it  quickly.  When  the  telephone  bell  rang 
promptly  at  four  o'clock  her  heart  dilated  with 
happiness;  she  knew  the  call  came  from  one  who 
never  would  fail  her.  Alice  answered  the  bell 
herself  and  her  tones  were  never  so  maddening 
in  Kimberly's  ears  as  when  she  told  him,  not 
only  that  he  might  come,  but  that  she  was  weary 
with  waiting.  She  stood  at  the  window  when 
his  car  drove  up  and  tripped  rapidly  downstairs. 

308 


Robert  Kimberly 

When  she  greeted  him  he  bent  down  to  kiss  her 
hand. 

She  did  not  resist  his  eagerness.  She  even  drew 
a  deep  breath  as  she  returned  his  look,  and  having 
made  ready  for  him  with  a  woman's  lovely  cunning, 
enjoyed  its  reward. 

"I've  been  crazy  to  see  you,"  he  cried.  "It  is 
two  days,  Alice.  How  can  I  tell  you  how  lovely 
you  are  ?" 

Her  eyes,  cast  down,  were  lifted  to  his  when  she 
made  her  confession.  "Do  you  really  like  this 
rig  ?  It  is  the  first  toilet  I  ever  made  with  the 
thought  of  nobody  but  you  in  my  head.  So  I 
told  Annie"  she  murmured,  letting  her  hand  rest 
on  his  coat  sleeve,  "to  be  sure  I  was  exactly  right." 

He  caught  her  hands. 

"Let's  go  into  the  garden,"  she  said  as  he  held 
them.  "I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

They  sat  down  together.  "Something  has  hap 
pened  since  I  saw  you,"  she  began. 

"Has  the  break  come?"  demanded  Kimberly 
instantly. 

"We  had  a  very  painful  scene  night  before  last," 
said  Alice.  "The  break  has  come.  He  has  gone 
to  town — he  went  yesterday  morning.  I  have 
asked  myself  many  questions  since  then.  My 
father  and  mother  are  dead.  I  have  no  home  to 
go  to,  and  I  will  not  live  even  under  the  same 

309 


Robert  Kimberly 

roof  with  him  any  longer.  I  feel  so  strange.  I 
feel  turned  out,  though  there  was  nothing  of  that 
in  what  he  said — indeed,  I  am  afraid  I  did  most 
of  the  talking." 

"I  wish  to  God  I  had  heard  you!" 

"  It  is  better  not.     Every  heart  knoweth  its  own 

bitterness " 

'»  "Let  me  help  bear  yours." 

"I  feel  homeless,  I  feel  so  alone,  so  ashamed — 
I  don't  know  what  I  don't  feel.  You  will  never 
know  what  humiliation,  what  pain  I  have  been 
through  for  two  days.  Robert — "  her  voice  faltered 
for  an  instant.  Then  she  spoke  on,  "I  never  can 
tell  you  of  the  sickness  and  shame  I  have  long  felt 
of  even  pretending  to  live  with  some  one  I  could 
not  respect." 

"Close  the  book  of  its  recollection.  I  came 
into  your  life  for  just  such  a  moment,  to  be  every 
thing  you  need.  I  am  home,  husband,  and  pro 
tection — everything." 

"If  I  could  only  make  my  senses  believe  my 
ears."  She  paused.  "It  seems  as  if  I  am  in  a 
dream  and  shall  wake  with  a  horror." 

"No,  this  is  a  dream  come  true.  I  foresaw  this 
time  and  I  have  provided  for  it.  Only  delicacy 
has  kept  me  from  asking  you  before  about  your 
very  personal  affairs  and  your  private  purse, 
Alice.  Understand  at  once,"  he  took  her  hands 

310 


Robert  Kimberly 

vehemently,  "everything  I  have  is  yours  without 
the  least  reserve.  Do  you  understand  ?  Money 
is  the  last  thing  to  make  any  one  happy,  I  well 
know  that,  but  in  addition  to  die  word  of  my 
heart  to  your  heart — the  transfers  to  you,  Alice, 
have  long  been  made  and  at  this  moment  you  have, 
merely  waiting  for  you  to  draw  upon  them,  more 
funds  than  you  could  make  use  of  in  ten  lifetimes. 
Everything  is  provided  for.  There  are  tears  in 
your  eyes.  Sit  still  for  a  moment  and  let  me 
speak." 

"No,  I  must  speak.  I  am  in  a  horrible  posi 
tion.  I  cannot  at  such  a  juncture  receive  anything 
from  you.  But  there  are  matters  to  be  faced. 
Shall  I  stay  here  ?  If  I  do,  he  must  go.  Shall  I 
go  ?  And  if  I  do  go,  where  ?" 

"  Let  me  answer  with  a  suggestion.  My  family 
are  all  devoted  to  us.  Dolly  and  Imogene  are  good 
counsellors.  I  will  lay  the  matter  before  them. 
After  a  family  council  we  shall  know  just  what  to 
do  and  how.  I  have  my  own  idea;  we  shall  see 
what  the  others  say.  Dolly,  you  know,  has  taken 
you  under  her  wing  from  the  first,  and  Dolly 
you  will  find  is  a  powerful  protector.  If  I  tell  you 
what  I  did  to-day  you  will  gasp  with  astonish 
ment.  I  cabled  for  a  whole  new  set  of  photo 
graphs  of  the  Maggiore  villa.  I  want  our  first 
year  together,  Alice,  to  be  in  Italy." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A  CCOMPANIED  by  Imogene,  Dolly  has- 
2  JL  tened  over  to  Cedar  Lodge  in  the  morning. 
Alice  met  them  in  the  hall.  "My  dear/'  cried 
Dolly,  folding  her  impulsively  in  her  arms,  "you 
are  charged  with  fate!" 

Then  she  drew  back,  laid  her  hands  on  Alice's 
shoulders  and,  bringing  her  face  tenderly  forward, 
kissed  her.  "How  can  I  blame  Robert  for  falling 
in  love  with  you?  And  yet!"  She  turned  to 
Imogene.  "  If  we  had  been  told  that  first  night 
that  this  was  the  woman  of  our  destiny!  How 
do  you  bear  your  new  honors,  dearie  ?  What ! 
Tears!  Nonsense,  my  child.  You  are  freighted 
with  the  Kimberly  hopes  now.  You  are  one  of 
us.  Tears  are  at  an  end.  I,  too,  cried  when  I 
first  knew  of  it.  Come,  sit  down.  Imogene  will 
tell  you  everything."  And  having  announced  this 
much,  Dolly  proceeded  with  the  telling  herself. 

"When  you  first  knew  of  it?"  echoed  Alice. 
"Pray,  when  was  that?" 

"Oh,  long,  long  ago — before  ever  you  did,  my 
dear.  But  no  matter  now.  We  talked  last  night, 


Robert  Kimberly 

Arthur,  Charles,  Imogene,  and  Robert  and  I 
until  midnight.  And  this  is  what  we  said:  'The 
dignity  of  your  personal  position  is,  before  every 
thing  else,  to  be  rigidly  maintained.'  Mr.  Mac- 
Birney  will  be  required  to  do  this.  He  will  be 
counselled  on  this  point — made  to  understand  that 
the  obligation  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  his  wife's 
position  is  primary.  Robert,  of  course,  objected 
to  this.  He  was  for  allowing  no  one  but  himself 
to  do  anything ' 

"I  hope  you  clearly  understand,  Dolly,  I  should 
allow  Mr.  Kimberly  to  do  nothing  whatever  at 
this  juncture/'  interposed  Alice  quickly. 

"I  understand  perfectly,  dear.  But  there  are 
others  of  us,  you  know,  friends  of  your  own  dear 
mother,  remember.  Only,  aside  from  all  of  that, 
we  considered  that  the  situation  admitted  of  but 
one  arrangement.  Charles  will  tell  Nelson  exactly 
what  MacBirney  is  to  do,  and  Nelson  will  see  that 
it  is  done.  The  proper  bankers  will  advise  you 
of  your  credits  from  your  husband,  for  the  pres 
ent — and  they  are  to  be  very  generous  ones,  my 
dear,"  added  Dolly  significantly.  "So  all  that  is 
taken  care  of  and  Mr.  MacBirney  will  further  be 
counselled  not  to  come  near  Cedar  Lodge  or  Sec 
ond  Lake  until  further  orders.  Do  you  under 
stand  ?" 

"Why,  yes*  Dolly,"  assented  Alice  perplexed, 


Robert  Kimberly 

"but  Mr.  MacBirney's  acquiescence  in  all  this  is 
very  necessary  it  seems  to  me.  And  he  may  agree 
to  none  of  it." 

"My  dear,  it  isn't  at  all  a  question  of  his 
agreeing.  He  will  do  as  he  is  advised  to  do.  Do 
you  imagine  he  can  afford  breaking  with  the  Kim- 
berlys  ?  A  man  that  pursues  money,  dear  heart, 
is  no  longer  a  free  agent.  His  interests  confront 
him  at  every  turn.  Fledgling  millionaires  are  in 
no  way  new  to  us.  Mercy,  they  pass  in  and  out 
of  our  lives  every  day!  A  millionaire,  dear,  is 
nothing  but  a  million  meannesses  and  they  all 
do  exactly  as  they  are  told.  Really,  I  am  sorry 
for  some  of  them.  Of  all  unfortunates  they  are 
nowadays  the  worst.  They  are  simply  ground  to 
powder  between  the  multi-millionaires  and  the 
laboring  classes.  In  this  case,  happily,  it  is  only 
a  matter  of  making  one  do  what  he  ought  to  do, 
so  give  it  no  thought." 

Dolly  proved  a  good  prophet  concerning  Mac 
Birney's  course  in  the  circumstances.  MacBir- 
ney,  desirous  of  playing  at  once  to  the  lake  pub 
lic  in  the  affair  of  his  domestic  difficulties,  made 
unexceptional  allowances  for  his  wife's  main 
tenance.  Yet  at  every  dollar  that  came  to  her 
from  his  abundance  she  felt  humiliated.  She 
knew  now  why  she  had  endured  so  much  at  his 
hands  for  so  long;  it  was  because  she  had  realized 


Robert  Kimberly 

her  utter  dependence  on  him  and  that  her  dreams 
of  self-support  were  likely,  if  she  had  ever  acted 
on  them,  to  end  in  very  bitter  realities. 

At  the  first  sign  of  hot  weather,  Charles  and 
Imogene  put  to  sea  with  a  party  for  a  coasting 
cruise;  Dolly  sailed  for  the  continent  to  bring 
Grace  back  with  her.  Robert  Kimberly  unwill 
ing  to  leave  for  any  extended  period  would  not 
let  Alice  desert  him;  accordingly,  Fritzie  was 
sent  for  and  came  over  to  stay  with  her.  The 
lake  country  made  a  delightful  roaming  place 
and  Alice  was  shown  by  Kimberly's  confidences 
how  close  she  was  to  him. 

He  confided  to  her  the  journal  of  the  day,  what 
ever  it  might  be.  Nothing  was  held  back.  His 
successes,  failures,  and  worries  all  came  to  her  at 
night.  He  often  asked  her  for  advice  upon  his 
affairs  and  her  wonder  grew  as  the  inwardness 
of  the  monetary  world  in  which  he  moved  stood 
revealed  to  her.  She  spoke  of  it  one  day. 

"To  be  sought  after  as  you  are — to  have  so 
many  men  running  out  here  to  find  you;  to  be 
consulted  by  so  many " 

Kimberly  interrupted  her.  "Do  you  know 
why  they  seek  me  ?  Because  I  make  money  for 
them,  Alice.  They  would  run  after  anybody 
that  could  make  them  money.  But  they  are 
wolves  and  if  I  lost  for  them  they  would  try  to 


Robert  Kimberly 

tear  me  to  pieces.  No  man  is  so  alone  as  the 
man  the  public  follows  for  a  day  even  while  it  hates 
or  fears  him.  And  the  man  the  bankers  like  is  the 
man  that  can  make  money  for  them;  their  friend 
ship  is  as  cold  and  thin  as  autumn  ice." 

"  But  even  then,  to  have  the  ability  for  making 
money  and  doing  magnificent  things;  to  be  able 
to  succeed  where  so  many  men  fail — it  seems  so 
wonderful  to  me." 

"Don't  cherish  any  illusions  about  it.  Every 
one  that  makes  money  must  be  guilty  of  a  thousand 
cold-blooded  things,  a  thousand  sharp  turns,  a 
thousand  cruelties;  it's  a  game  of  cruel tiest 
Fortunately,  I'm  not  a  brilliant  success  in  that  line, 
anyway;  people  merely  think  I  am.  The  ideal 
money-maker  always  is  and  always  will  be  a  man 
without  a  temper,  without  a  heart,  and  with  an 
infusion,  in  our  day,  of  hypocrisy.  He  takes 
refuge  in  hypocrisy  because  the  public  hates  him 
and  he  is  forced  to  do  it  to  keep  from  hating  him 
self.  When  public  opinion  gets  too  strong  for 
him  he  plays  to  it.  When  it  isn't  too  strong,  he 
plays  to  himself.  I  can't  do  that;  I  have  too 
much  vanity  to  play  to  anybody.  And  the  recol 
lection  of  a  single  defeat  rankles  above  the  mem 
ory  of  a  thousand  victories.  This  is  all  wrong — 
far,  far  from  the  ideal  of  money  getting;  in  fact, 
I'm  not  a  professional  in  the  game  at  all — merely 

316 


Robert  Kimberly 

an  amateur.  A  very  successful  man  should  never 
be  trusted  anyway." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  success  comes  first  with  him.  It 
comes  before  friendship  and  he  will  sacrifice  you 
to  success  without  a  pang." 

She  looked  at  him  writh  laughing  interest. 
"What  is  it?"  he  asked  changing  his  tone. 

"I  was  thinking  of  how  I  am  impressed  some 
times  by  the  most  unexpected  things.  You  could 
never  imagine  what  most  put  me  in  awe  of  you 
before  I  met  you." 

"  There  must  have  been  a  severe  revulsion  of  feel 
ing  when  you  did  meet  me,"  suggested  Kimberly. 

"We  were  going  up  the  river  in  your  yacht  and 
Mr.  McCrea  was  showing  us  the  refineries.  All 
that  I  then  knew  of  you  was  what  I  had  read  in 
newspapers  about  calculating  and  cold-blooded 
trust  magnates.  Mr.  McCrea  was  pointing  out 
the  different  plants  as  we  went  along." 

"The  river  is  very  pretty  at  the  Narrows." 

"First,  we  passed  the  independent  houses. 
They  kept  getting  bigger  and  bigger  until  I  couldn't 
imagine  anything  to  overshadow  them  and  I  be 
gan  to  get  frightened  and  wonder  what  your  re 
fineries  would  be  like.  Then,  just  as  we  turned  at 
the  island,  Mr.  McCrea  pointed  out  a  perfectly 
huge  cluster  of  buildings  and  said  those  were  the 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly  plants.  Really,  they  took  my  breath 
away.  And  in  the  midst  of  them  rose  that  enor 
mous  oblong  chimney-stack.  A  soft,  lazy  column 
of  smoke  hovered  over  it — such  as  hovers  over 
Vesuvius."  She  smiled  at  the  remembrance. 
"  But  the  repose  and  size  of  that  chimney  seemed 
to  me  like  the  strength  of  the  pyramids.  When 
we  steamed  nearer  I  could  read,  near  the  top, 
the  great  terra-cotta  plaque:  KIMBERLYS  AND 
COMPANY.  Then  I  thought:  Oh,  what  a  tre 
mendous  personage  Mr.  Robert  Kimberly  must 
be!" 

"The  chimney  is  yours." 

"Oh,  no,  keep  it,  pray — but  it  really  did  put  me 
wondering  just  what  you  were  like." 

"It  must  have  been  an  inspiration  that  made 
me  build  that  chimney.  The  directors  thought  I 
would  embarrass  the  company  before  we  got  the 
foundations  in.  I  didn't  know  then  whom  I  was 
building  it  for,  but  I  know  now;  and  if  you  got 
a  single  thrill  out  of  it  the  expenditure  is  justified. 
And  I  think  mention  of  the  thrill  should  go  into  the 
directors'  minutes  on  the  page  where  they  objected 
to  the  bill — we  will  see  about  that.  But  you  never 
expected  at  that  moment  to  own  the  chimney, 
did  you  ?  You  shall.  I  will  have  the  trustees  re 
lease  it  from  the  general  mortgage  and  convey 
it  to  you." 

318 


Robert  Kimberly 

"And  speaking  of  Vesuvius,  you  never  dreamed 
of  a  volcano  lying  in  wait  for  you  beneath  the 
lazy  smoke  of  that  chimney,  did  you  ?  And  that 
before  very  long  you  would  not  alone  own  the 
chimney  but  would  be  carrying  the  volcano  around 
in  your  vanity  bag  ? " 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

ONE  afternoon  in  the  early  autumn  Kimberly 
came  to  Cedar  Lodge  a  little  later  than  usual 
and  asked  Alice,  as  he  often  did,  to  walk  to  the 
lake.  He  started  down  the  path  with  something 
more  than  his  ordinary  decision  and  inclined  for 
a  time  to  reticence.  They  stopped  at  a  bench 
near  an  elm  overlooking  the  water.  "You  have 
been  in  town  to-day,"  said  Alice. 

"  Yes;  a  conference  this  morning  on  the  market. 
Something  extraordinary  happened." 

"In  the  market?" 

"Market  conditions  are  bad  enough,  but  this 
was  something  personal." 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

"MacBirney  was  present  at  the  conference. 
After  the  meeting  he  came  to  the  head  of  the  table 
where  I  was  talking  with  McCrea — and  sat  down. 
When  McCrea  joined  the  others  in  the  lunch 
room,  MacBirney  said  he  wanted  to  speak  to 
me  a  moment.  I  told  him  to  go  ahead. 

"He  began  at  once  about  his  differences  with 
you.  His  talk  puzzled  me.  I  was  on  the  de 
fensive,  naturally.  But  as  far  as  I  could  see,  he 
designed  no  attack  on  me;  and  of  you  he  could 

320 


Robert  Kimberly 

utter  nothing  but  praise — it  was  rather  trying  to 
listen  to.  I  could  not  fathom  his  purpose  in  bring 
ing  the  matter  before  me  in  this  singular  way,  but 
he  ended  with  an  appeal " 

"An  appeal!" 

"He  asked  me  to  bring  a  message  to  you.  I 
told  him  I  would  deliver  any  message  entrusted 
to  me.  He  wants  you  to  know  that  he  is  very 
sorry  for  what  has  taken  place.  He  admits  that 
he  has  been  in  the  wrong " 

"It  is  too  late!"  Alice  in  her  emotion  rose  to 
her  feet. 

"And  he  asks  you,  through  me,"  Kimberly  spoke 
under  a  strain  he  did  not  wholly  conceal,  "if  he 
may  come  back  and  let  the  past  bury  itself." 

"It  is  too  late." 

"He  said,"  Kimberly  rose  and  faced  Alice, 
"there  had  been  differences  about  religion " 

"Ask  him,"  she  returned  evenly,  "whether  I 
ever  sought  to  interfere  with  his  religious  views  or 
practices." 

"These,  he  promises,  shall  not  come  between 
you  again." 

"Wretched  man!  His  words  are  not  the  slight 
est  guarantee  of  his  conduct." 

Kimberly  took  his  hat  from  his  head  and  wiped 
his  forehead.  "This  was  the  message,  Alice; 
is  he  to  come  back  to  you  ?" 

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Robert  Kimberly 

"Whatever  becomes  of  me,  I  never  will  live 
again  with  him." 

"That  is  irrevocable?" 

"Yes." 

"I  have  kept  my  word — that  you  should  have 
his  message  as  straight  as  I  could  carry  it." 

"I  believe  you  have.  He  certainly  could  not, 
whatever  his  intentions,  have  paid  you  a  higher 
tribute  than  to  entrust  you  with  one  for  me." 

"Then  he  does  not  and  never  can  stand  between 
you  and  me,  Alice?" 

"He  never  can." 

The  expression  of  his  eyes  would  have  frightened 
her  at  a  moment  less  intense.  Slightly  paler  than 
she  had  been  a  year  earlier  and  showing  in  her 
manner  rather  than  in  her  face  only  indefinable 
traces  of  the  trouble  she  had  been  through,  Alice 
brought  each  day  to  Kimberly  an  attraction  that 
renewed  itself  unfailingly. 

He  looked  now  upon  her  eyes — he  was  always 
asking  whether  they  were  blue  or  gray — and  upon 
her  brown  hair,  as  it  framed  her  white  forehead.  He 
looked  with  tender  fondness  on  the  delicate  cheeks 
that  made  not  alone  a  setting  for  her  frank  eyes 
but  for  him  added  to  the  appeal  of  her  lips.  He  sat 
down  again,  catching  her  hand  to  bring  her  close. 

"Come,"  he  urged,  relaxing  from  his  intensity, 
"sit  down.  By  Heaven,  I  have  suffered  to-day! 

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Robert  Kimberly 

But  who  wouldn't  suffer  for  you  ?  Who  but  for 
the  love  of  woman  would  bear  the  cares  and  bur 
dens  of  this  world  ?" 

Alice  smiled  oddly.  "We  have  to  bear  them, 
you  know,  for  the  love  of  man."  She  sat  down  on 
the  bench  beside  him.  "Tell  me,  how  have  you 
suffered  to-day?" 

"Do  you  want  to  know?" 

"Of  course,  I  want  to  know.  Don't  you  always 
want  to  know  how  I  have  suffered  ?  Though  I 
used  to  think,"  she  added,  as  if  moved  by  un 
pleasant  recollections,  "that  nobody  cares  when  a 
woman  suffers." 

"The  man  that  loves  her  cares.  It  is  one  of 
love's  attributes.  It  makes  a  woman's  sorrow  and 
pain  his,  just  as  her  joy  and  happiness  are  his. 
Pleasure  and  pain  are  twins,  anyway,  and  you  can 
not  separate  them.  Alice!"  He  looked  suddenly 
at  her.  "You  love  me,  don't  you?" 

Her  face  crimsoned,  for  she  realized  he  was  bent 
on  making  her  answer. 

"Let  us  talk  about  something  else,  Robert." 

He  repeated  his  question. 

"Don't  make  me  put  it  into  words  yet,  Robert," 
she  said  at  last.  "You  have  so  long  known  the  an 
swer — and  know  that  I  still  speak  as  his  wife.  Do 
I  love  you  ?"  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"Alice!"  His  appeal  drew  her  eyes  back  to 
323 


Robert  Kimberly 

his.  They  looked  speechless  at  each  other.  The 
moment  was  too  much.  Instinctively  she  sprang 
in  fear  to  her  feet,  but  only  to  find  herself  caught 
within  his  arm  and  to  feel  his  burning  lips  on  her 
lips.  She  fought  his  embrace  in  half-delirious  re 
proach.  Then  her  eyes  submitted  to  his  pleading 
and  their  lips  met  with  her  soft,  plunging  pulse 
beating  swiftly  upon  his  heart. 

It  was  only  for  an  instant.  She  pushed  him 
away.  "I  have  answered  you.  You  must  spare 
me  now  or  I  shall  sink  with  shame." 

"But  you  are  mine,"  he  persisted,   "all  mine." 

She  led  him  up  the  path  toward  the  house. 

"Sometimes  I  am  afraid  I  shall  swallow  you  up, 
as  the  sea  swallows  up  the  ship,  in  a  storm  of 
passion." 

"Oh  no,  you  will  not." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  am  helpless.  Was  there  more  to 
your  story  ?" 

"You  know  then  I  haven't  told  it  all." 

"Tell  me  the  rest." 

"When  he  had  finished,  I  told  him  I,  too,  had 
something  to  say.  'I  shall  deliver  your  message 
to  Alice/  I  said.  'But  it  is  only  fair  to  say  to  you 
I  mean  to  make  her  my  wife  if  she  will  accept  me, 
and  her  choice  will  lie  between  you  and  me,  Mac- 
Birney.' 

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Robert  Kimberly 

"You  should  have  seen  his  amazement.  Then 
he  collected  himself  for  a  stab — and  I  tried  not  to 
let  him  see  that  it  went  deep.  'Whatever  the 
outcome/  he  said,  'she  will  never  marry  you.' 

'You  must  recollect  you  have  not  been  in  her 
confidence  for  some  time/  I  retorted.  He  seemed 
in  no  way  disconcerted  and  ended  by  disconcerting 
me.  'Remember  what  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Kimberly/ 
he  repeated,  'you  will  find  me  a  good  prophet. 
She  is  a  Catholic  and  will  never  marry  you  or  any 
other  man  while  I  live/ 

"  'You  may  be  right/  I  replied.  '  But  if  Alice 
marries  me  she  will  never  live  to  regret  it  for  one 
moment  on  account  of  her  religion.  I  have  no 
religion  myself,  except  her.  She  is  my  religion, 
she  alone  and  her  happiness.  You  seem  to  in 
voke  her  religion  against  me.  What  right  have 
you  to  do  this  ?  Have  you  helped  her  in  its 
practice  ?  Have  you  kept  the  promises  you  made 
when  you  married  a  Catholic  wife  ?  Or  have  you 
made  her  life  a  hell  on  earth  because  she  tried  to 
practise  her  religion,  as  you  promised  she  should 
be  free  to  do  ?  Is  she  a  better  Catholic  because 
she  believed  in  you,  or  a  worse  because  to  live  in 
peace  with  you  she  was  forced  to  abandon  the 
practice  of  her  religion  ?  These  are  questions 
for  you  to  think  over,  MacBirney.  I  will  give 

her  your  message ' 

325 


Robert  Kimberly 

'Give  her  my  message,'  he  sneered.     "You 
would  be  likely  to ! ' 

"  'Stop!'  I  said.  'My  word,  MacBirney,  is 
good.  Friend  and  foe  of  mine  will  tell  you  that. 
Even  my  enemies  accept  my  word.  But  if  I  could 
bring  myself  to  deceive  those  that  trust  me  I  would 
choose  enemies  to  prey  upon  before  I  chose  friends. 
I  could  deceive  my  own  partners.  I  could  play 
false  to  my  own  brother — all  this  I  could  do  and 
more.  But  if  I  could  practise  deceits  a  thousand 
times  viler  than  these,  I  could  not,  so  help  me 
God,  lie  to  a  trusting  girl  that  I  had  asked  to  be 
my  wife  and  the  mother  of  my  children!  What 
ever  else  of  baseness  I  stooped  to,  that  word  should 
be  forever  good!' 

"Alice,  I  struck  the  table  a  blow  that  made 
the  inkstands  jump.  My  eye-glasses  went  with  a 
crash.  Nelson  and  McCrea  came  running  in; 
MacBirney  turned  white.  He  tried  to  stretch  his 
lips  in  a  smile;  it  was  ghastly.  Everybody  was 
looking  at  me.  I  got  up  without  a  word  to  any 
one  and  left  the  room." 

Alice  caught  his  sleeve.  "Robert,  I  am  proud 
of  you!  How  much  better  you  struck  than  you 
knew!  Oh,"  she  cried,  "how  could  I  help  lov 
ing  you  ?" 

"Do  you  love  me?" 

"I  would  give  my  life  for  you." 
326 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Don't  give  it  for  me;  keep  it  for  me.  You 
will  marry  me;  won't  you  ?  What  did  the  cur 
mean  by  saying  what  he  did,  Alice?" 

"He  meant  to  taunt  me;  to  remind  me  of  how 
long  I  tried  to  live  in  some  measure  up  to  the  re 
ligion  that  he  used  every  means  to  drive  me  from 
— and  did  drive  me  from." 

"We  will  restore  all  that." 

"He  meant  I  must  come  to  you  without  its 
blessing." 

He  looked  suddenly  and  keenly  at  her.  "Should 
you  be  happier  with  its  blessing?" 

"Ah,  Robert." 

"But  should  you?" 

She  gazed  away.  "It  is  a  happiness  I  have 
lost." 

"Then  you  shall  have  it  again." 

"I  will  trust  to  God  for  some  escape  from  my 
difficulties.  What  else  can  I  do  ?  My  husband !" 
she  exclaimed  bitterly — "generous  man  to  remind 
me  of  religion!" 

Kimberly  spoke  with  a  quick  resolve.  "I  am 
going  to  look  into  this  matter  of  where  you  stand 
as  a  wife.  I  am  going  to  know  why  you  can't 
have  a  chance  to  live  your  life  with  me.  If  I 
give  you  back  what  he  has  robbed  you  of,  our 
happiness  will  be  doubled." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

WHEN  Kimberly  reached  The  Towers  it  was 
dusk.  Brother  Francis  was  walking  on 
the  terrace.  Kimberly  joined  him.  "How  is 
Uncle  John  to-day,  Francis?" 

"Always  the  same.  It  is  an  astonishing  vitality 
in  your  family,  Robert/' 

"They  need  all  they  have." 

"But  all  that  need  strength  do  not  have  it. 
How  is  your  market  to-day?" 

"Bad,"  muttered  Kimberly  absently. 

"lam  sorry  that  you  are  worried." 

"More  than  the  market  worries  me,  Francis. 
But  the  market  is  getting  worse  and  worse.  We 
met  again  to-day  and  reduced  prices.  The  out 
siders  are  cutting.  We  retaliate  to  protect  our 
customers.  When  we  cut,  the  cut  is  universal. 
Their  warfare  is  guerilla.  They  are  here  to-day, 
there  to-morrow." 

"I  have  thought  of  what  you  said  last  night. 
Cutting  you  say,  has  failed.  Try  something  else. 
To-morrow  advance  all  of  your  standard  brands 
one  quarter.  Be  bold;  cut  with  your  own  outside 


Robert  Kimberly 

refineries.  The  profit  from  the  one  hand  pays 
the  cost  of  the  war  on  the  other." 

Kimberly  stopped.  "How  childish  of  you  to 
waste  your  life  in  a  shabby  black  gown,  nursing 
people!  Absolutely  childish!  If  you  will  go  into 
the  sugar  business,  I  tell  you  again,  Francis,  I 
will  pay  you  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year  for 
ten  years  and  set  aside  as  much  more  preferred 
stock  for  you." 

"Nonsense,  Robert." 

"You  are  a  merchant.  You  could  make  a 
name  for  yourself.  The  world  would  respect  you. 
There  are  enough  to  do  the  nursing,  and  too  few 
brains  in  the  sugar  business.  To-night  I  will 
give  the  orders  and  the  advance  shall  be  made 
when  the  market  opens." 

"But  your  directors?" 

"We  will  direct  the  directors.  They  have  had 
two  months  to  figure  how  to  fight  the  scalpers; 
you  show  me  in  twenty-four  hours.  Some  monks 
were  in  to  see  me  this  morning;  I  was  too  busy. 
They  told  my  secretary  they  were  building  an 
asylum  for  old  men.  I  told  him  to  say,  not  a 
dollar  for  old  men;  to  come  to  me  when  they 
were  building  an  asylum  for  old  women.  What 
do  you  say  to  my  offer,  Francis  ?" 

"What  do  I  say?  Ah,  Robert,  although  you 
are  a  very  big  paymaster,  I  am  working  for  a  Pay- 

329 


Robert  Kimberly 

master  much  bigger  than  you.  What  do  I  say  ? 
I  say  to  you,  give  up  this  sugar  business  and  come 
with  me  to  the  nursing.  I  will  give  you  rags  in 
place  of  riches,  fasting  in  place  of  fine  dinners, 
toil  in  place  of  repose,  but  my  Paymaster — He 
will  reward  you  there  for  all  you  endure  here." 

"Always  deferred  dividends.  Besides,  I  should 
make  a  poor  nurse,  Francis,  and  you  would  make 
a  good  sugar  man.  And  you  seem  to  imply  I  am 
a  bad  man  in  the  sugar  business.  I  am  not;  I 
am  a  very  excellent  man,  but  you  don't  seem  to 
know  it." 

"I  hope  so;  I  hope  you  are.  God  has  given 
you  splendid  talents — he  has  given  you  more  rea 
son,  more  heart,  more  judgment  than  he  has  given 
to  these  men  around  you.  If  you  waste,  you  are 
in  danger  of  the  greater  punishment/' 

"  But  I  don't  waste.  I  build  up.  What  can  a 
man  do  in  this  world  without  power  ?  He  must 
have  the  sinews  of  empire  to  make  himself  felt. 
Francis,  what  would  Cromwell,  Frederick,  Napo 
leon  have  been  without  power?" 

"Ah!  These  are  your  heroes;  they  are  not 
mine.  I  give  glory  to  no  man  that  overcomes  by 
force,  violence,  and  worse — fraud,  broken  faith, 
misrule,  falsehood.  What  is  more  detestable 
than  the  triumph  of  mere  brains  ?  Your  heroes, 
do  they  not  tax,  extort,  pillage,  slaughter,  and 

33° 


Robert  Kimberly 

burn  for  their  own  glory  ?  Do  they  not  ride  over 
law,  morality,  and  justice,  your  world's  heroes  ? 
They  are  not  my  heroes.  When  men  shrink  at 
nothing  to  gain  their  success — what  shall  we  say  of 
them  ?  But  to  hold  law,  morality,  and  justice  in 
violable;  to  conquer  strength  but  only  by  weak 
ness,  to  vanquish  with  pity,  to  crush  with  mercy 
— that  alone  is  moving  greatness." 

"Where  do  you  find  it?"  demanded  Kimberly 
sharply. 

"Never  where  you  look  for  your  heroes;  often 
where  I  look  for  mine — among  the  saints  of  God. 
Not  in  men  of  bronze  but  in  men  of  clay.  It  is 
only  Christ  who  puts  the  souls  of  heroes  into 
hearts  of  flesh  and  blood." 

"But  you  have,  along  with  your  saints,  some 
very  foolish  rules  in  your  church,  Francis.  Take 
the  case  of  Mrs.  MacBirney.  There  is  a  woman 
who  has  done  evil  to  no  one  and  good  to  every  one. 
She  finds  herself  married  to  a  man  who  thence 
forth  devotes  himself  to  but  one  object  in  life — the 
piling  up  of  money.  She  is  forgotten  and  neg 
lected.  That  is  not  the  worst;  he,  with  no  re 
ligion  of  his  own,  makes  it  his  business  to  harass 
and  worry  her  in  the  practice  of  hers.  He  is  filled 
with  insane  jealousies,  and  moved  by  equally  in 
sane  hatreds  of  whatever  she  desires.  I  come 
into  their  lives.  I  see  this  proud  and  unhappy 


Robert  Kimberly 

woman  struggling  to  keep  her  trials  hidden.  I 
break  down  the  barriers  of  her  reserve — not  easily, 
not  without  being  repulsed  and  humiliated  as  I 
never  before  have  been  by  a  woman — and  at  last 
make  her,  unwillingly,  tell  me  the  truth.  Mean 
time  her  husband,  after  a  scene — of  which  I  have 
never  yet  learned  the  real  facts — has  left  her. 
I  say  such  a  woman  has  the  right  to  free  herself 
from  a  brute  such  as  this;  your  church  says 


no.' 


"Robert,  I  see  what  you  are  coming  to.  But 
do  not  make  the  case  harder  than  it  is.  She  may 
free  herself  from  him  if  she  cannot  live  in  peace 
with  him;  she  may  leave  him  under  intolerable 
conditions.  But  not  marry  again." 

"Precisely.  And  I  offer  her  my  devotion  and 
a  home  and  only  ask  to  make  her  truly  my  wife 
and  restore  to  her  the  religion  he  has  robbed  her 
of.  And  this  very  religion  that  he  has  trampled 
on  and  throttled,  what  does  it  say?  'No/  ' 

"  You  state  a  hard  case.  Your  reasoning  is  very 
plausible;  you  plead  for  the  individual.  There 
is  no  law,  human  or  divine,  against  which  the  in 
dividual  might  not  show  a  case  of  hardship.  The 
law  that  you  find  a  hardship  protects  society. 
But  to-day,  society  is  nothing,  the  individual  every 
thing.  And  while  society  perishes  we  praise  the 
tolerant  anarchism  that  destroys  it." 

332 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Francis,  you  invoke  cruelty.  What  do  I  care 
for  society?  What  has  society  done  for  me?" 

"No,  I  invoke  responsibility,  which  none  of  us 
can  forever  escape.  You  seek  remarriage.  Your 
care  is  for  the  body;  but  there  is  also  the 
soul." 

"Your  law  is  intolerant." 

"Yours  is  fatal.  How  often  have  you  said  to 
me — for  you  have  seen  it,  as  all  thoughtful  men  see 
it — that  woman  is  sinking  every  day  from  the  high 
estate  to  which  marriage  once  lifted  her.  And 
the  law  that  safeguards  this  marriage  and  against 
which  you  protest  is  the  law  of  God.  I  cannot 
apologize  for  it  if  I  would;  I  would  not  if  I  could. 
Think  what  you  do  when  you  break  down  the 
barrier  that  He  has  placed  about  a  woman.  It  is 
not  alone  that  the  Giver  of  this  law  died  a  shameful 
death  for  the  souls  of  men.  You  do  not  believe 
that  Christ  was  God,  and  Calvary  means  nothing 
to  you. 

"But,  Robert,  to  place  woman  in  that  high 
position,  millions  of  men  like  you  and  me,  men 
with  the  same  instincts,  the  same  appetites,  the 
same  passions  as  yours  and  mine,  have  crucified 
their  desires,  curbed  their  appetites,  and  mastered 
their  passions — and  this  sacrifice  has  been  going 
on  for  nineteen  hundred  years  and  goes  on  about 
us  every  day.  Who  realizes  it  ? 

333 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Faith  is  ridiculed,  fasting  is  despised,  the  very 
idea  of  self-denial  is  as  absurd  to  pagan  to-day  as 
it  was  nineteen  hundred  years  ago  to  pagan  Rome. 
And  with  its  frivolous  marriages  and  easy  divorces 
the  world  again  drags  woman  back  to  the  couch 
of  the  concubine  from  which  Christianity  with  so 
much  blood  and  tears  lifted  her  up  nineteen  hun 
dred  years  ago." 

"Francis,  you  are  a  dreamer.  Society  is  gone; 
you  can't  restore  it.  I  see  only  a  lovely  woman 
its  victim.  I  am  not  responsible  for  the  condition 
that  made  her  one  and  I  certainly  shall  not  stand 
by  and  see  her  suffer  because  the  world  is  rotten 
— nor  would  you — don't  protest,  I  know  you,  too. 
So  I  am  going  to  raise  her  as  high  as  man  can 
raise  a  woman.  She  deserves  it.  She  deserves 
infinitely  more.  I  am  only  sorry  I  can't  raise  her 
higher.  I  am  going  to  make  her  my  wife;  and 
you,  Francis,  shall  dance  at  the  wedding.  Oh, 
you  needn't  throw  up  your  hands — you  are  going 
to  dance  at  the  wedding." 

"Non  posso,  non  posso.  I  cannot  dance, 
Robert." 

"You  don't  mean,  Francis,"  demanded  Kim 
berly  severely  suspicious,  "to  tell  me  you  would 
like  me  the  less — that  you  would  be  other  than 
you  have  been  to  me — if  you  saw  me  happily 
married  ?" 

334 


Robert  Kimberly 

"How  could  I  ever  be  different  to  you  from 
what  I  have  been  ?  Every  day,  Robert,  I  pray 
for  you." 

Kimberly's  brows  contracted.     "Don't  do  it." 

Francis's  face  fell.     "Not?" 

"For  the  present  let  me  alone.  I'm  doing  very 
well.  The  situation  is  delicate." 

Francis's  distress  was  apparent,  and  Kimberly 
continued  good-naturedly  to  explain.  "Don't  stir 
God  up,  Francis;  don't  you  see?  Don't  attract 
his  attention  to  me.  I'm  doing  very  well.  All  I 
want  is  to  be  let  alone." 


335 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

"  T3  Y  the  way,  how  does  it  seem  to  be  quite  a 
JJ  free  woman  ?"  said  Kimberly  one  evening 
to  Alice. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 
"Your  decree  was  granted  to-day." 
She  steeled  herself  with  an  exclamation.    "  That 
nightmare!     Is  it  really  over  ?" 

He  nodded.  "Now,  pray  forget  it.  You  see, 
you  were  called  to  the  city  but  once.  You  spent 
only  ten  minutes  in  the  judge's  chambers,  and 
answered  hardly  half  a  dozen  questions.  You 
have  suffered  over  it  because  you  are  too  sensitive 
— you  are  as  delicate  as  Dresden.  And  this  is 
why  I  try  to  stand  between  you  and  everything 
unpleasant." 

"But  sha'n't  you  be  tired  of  always  standing 
between  me  and  everything  unpleasant?" 

He  gazed  into  her  eyes  and  they  returned  his 
searching  look  with  the  simplicity  of  faith.  In 
their  expression  he  felt  the  measure  of  his  happi 
ness.  "No,"  he  answered,  "I  like  it.  It  is  my 
part  of  the  job.  And  when  I  look  upon  you, 
when  I  am  near  you,  even  when  I  breathe  the 

336 


Robert  Kimberly 

fragrance  of  your  belongings — of  a  glove,  a  fan, 
a  handkerchief — I  have  my  reward.  Every  trifle 
of  yours  takes  your  charm  upon  itself." 

He  laid  a  bulky  package  in  her  lap.  "Here 
are  the  maps  and  photographs." 

"Oh,  this  is  the  villa."  Alice's  eye  ran  with 
delight  over  the  views  as  she  spread  them  before 
her.  "Tell  me  everything  about  it." 

"I  have  not  seen  it  since  I  was  a  boy.  But 
above  Stresa  a  pebbled  Roman  highway  winds  into 
the  northern  hills.  It  is  flanked  with  low  walls  of 
rotten  stone  and  shaded  with  plane  trees.  Half 
an  hour  above  the  town  an  ilex  grove  marks  a 
villa  entrance." 

He  handed  her  a  photograph.  "This  is  the  grove, 
these  are  the  gates — they  are  by  Krupp,  and  you 
will  like  them.  Above  them  are  the  Dutch  Kim 
berly  arms — to  which  we  have  no  right  whatever 
that  I  can  discover.  But  wasn't  it  delightfully 
American  for  Dolly  to  appropriate  them  ? 

"The  roadway  grows  narrower  as  it  climbs. 
Again  and  again  it  sinks  into  the  red  hill-side, 
leaving  a  wall  tapestried  with  ivy.  Indeed,  it  winds 
about  with  hardly  any  regard  for  a  fixed  destina 
tion,  but  the  air  is  so  bland  and  the  skies  at  every 
turn  are  so  soft,  that  pretty  soon  you  don't  care 
whether  you  ever  get  anywhere  or  not.  The  hills 
are  studded  with  olives  and  oranges. 

337 


Robert  Kimberly 

"When  you  have  forgotten  that  you  have  a 
destination  the  road  opens  on  a  lovely  pineto. 
You  cross  it  to  a  casino  on  the  eastern  edge  and 
there  is  the  lake,  two  hundred  feet  below  and 
stretching  away  into  the  Alps. 

"  Above  the  casino  you  lose  yourself  among 
cedars,  chestnuts,  magnolias,  and  there  are  little 
gorges  with  clumps  of  wild  laurel.  Figs  and 
pomegranates  begin  beyond  the  gorge.  The 
arbors  are  hidden  by  oleander  trees  and  terraces 
of  camellias  rise  to  the  belvedere — the  tree  you 
see  just  beside  it  there  is  a  magnolia. 

"Back  of  this  lies  the  garden,  laid  out  in  the 
old  Italian  style,  and  crowning  a  point  far  above 
the  lake  stands  the  house.  The  view  is  a  promise 
of  paradise — you  have  the  lake,  the  mountains, 
the  lowlands,  the  walnut  groves,  yellow  campaniles, 
buff  villas,  and  Alpine  sunsets." 

"You  paint  a  lovely  picture." 

"But  incomplete;  to-night  you  are  free  to  tell 
me  when  I  can  take  you.  Make  it  an  early  day, 
Alice.  The  moment  we  are  married,  we  start. 
We  will  land  at  any  little  port  along  the  Riviera 
that  strikes  your  fancy,  have  a  car  to  meet 
us.  and  drive  thence  by  easy  stages  to  the  lake. 
From  the  moment  we  touch  at  Gibraltar  you 
will  fall  in  love  with  everything  anew;  there  is 
only  one  Mediterranean — one  Italy,  cara  mia 

338 


Robert  Kimberly 

ben.     Let   us   go    in.     I   want  you   to    sing    my 


song  " 


They  walked  into  the  house  and  to  che  dimly 
lighted  music  room.  There  they  sat  down  to 
gether  on  the  piano  bench  and  she  sabg  foi  him, 
"Caro  Mio  Ben." 


339 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

NOT  every  day  brought  unalloyed  happiness. 
Moments  of  depression  asserted  themselves 
with  Alice  and,  if  tolerated,  led  to  periods  of  de 
spondency.  She  found  herself  seeking  a  happi 
ness  that  seemed  to  elude  her. 

Even  her  depression,  banished  by  recreation,  left 
behind  something  of  a  painful  subconsciousness 
like  the  uneasy  subsidence  of  a  physical  pain. 
Activity  thus  became  a  part  of  her  daily  routine 
and  she  gained  a  reputation  for  lively  spirits. 

Kimberly,  whose  perception  was  not  often  at 
fault,  puzzled  over  the  strain  of  gayety  that  seemed 
to  disclose  a  new  phase  in  Alice's  nature.  Once, 
after  a  gay  day  at  Sea  Ridge,  he  surprised  her  at 
home  in  the  evening  and  found  her  too  depressed 
to  dissemble. 

"Now,"  he  said,  taking  both  her  hands,  "you 
are  going  to  tell  me  what  the  matter  is." 

"Robert,  nothing  is  the  matter." 

"Something  is  the  matter,"  he  persisted.  "Tell 
me  what  it  is." 

"It  is  less  than  nothing.  Just  a  miserable 
340 


Robert  Kimberly 

spectre  that  haunts  me  sometimes.  And  when  I 
feel  in  that  way,  I  think  I  am  still  his  wife.  Now 
you  are  vexed  with  me." 

"Not  for  an  instant,  darling;  only  perplexed. 
Your  worries  are  mine  and  we  must  work  out 
some  relief  for  them,  that  is  all.  And  when  things 
worry  me  you  will  help  me  do  away  with  my 
spectres,  won't  you  ?" 

He  soothed  and  quieted  her,  not  by  ridicule 
and  harshness  but  by  sympathy  and  understand 
ing,  and  her  love  for  him,  which  had  found  a  timid 
foothold  in  the  frailest  response  of  her  womanly  re 
serve,  now  sent  its  roots  deep  into  her  nature. 

It  was  nothing  to  her  that  he  was  great  in  the 
world's  eyes;  that  in  itself  would  have  repelled 
her — she  knew  what  the  wrorld  would  say  of  her 
ambition  in  marrying  him.  But  he  grew  in  her 
eyes  because  he  grew  in  her  heart  as  she  came  to 
realize  more  and  more  his  solicitude  for  her  happi 
ness — the  only  happiness,  he  told  her,  in  which 
he  ever  should  find  his  own. 

"I  know  how  it  will  end,  Robert."  They 
were  parting  after  a  moment  the  most  intense 
they  had  ever  allowed  themselves  together.  She 
was  putting  away  his  unwilling  arms,  as  she 
looked  in  the  darkness  of  the  garden  up  into 
his  face. 

"How  will  it  end  ?"   he  asked. 


Robert  Kimberly 

"In  my  loving  you  as  much  as  you  love  me." 

Winter  passed  and  the  spring  was  again  upon 
them  before  they  realized  it.  In  the  entertaining 
around  the  lake  they  had  been  feted  until  it  was 
a  relief  to  run  away  from  it  all,  as  they  often  did. 
To  escape  the  park-like  regularity  of  their  own 
domains,  they  sought  for  their  riding  or  driving 
the  neglected  country  below  the  village.  Some 
times  on  their  horses  they  would  explore  the  back 
woods  roads  and  attempt  swampy  lanes  where 
frogs  and  cowslips  disputed  their  entry  and  boggy 
pools  menaced  escape. 

Alice,  hatless  and  flushed  with  laughter  and  the 
wind,  would  lead  the  way  into  abandoned  wood- 
paths  and  sometimes  they  found  one  that  led 
through  a  forest  waste  to  a  hidden  pond  where 
the  sun,  unseen  of  men,  mirrored  itself  in  glassy 
waters  and  dogwood  reddened  the  margin  where 
their  horses  drank. 

In  the  woods,  if  she  offered  a  race,  Kimberly 
could  never  catch  Alice  no  matter  what  his  mount. 
She  loved  to  thread  a  reckless  way  among  sapling 
trees,  heedless  of  branches  that  caught  her  neck 
and  kissed  her  cheeks  as  she  hurried  on — riding 
gave  them  delightful  hours. 

They  were  coming  into  the  village  one  May 
morning  after  a  long  cross-country  run  when  they 
encountered  a  procession  of  young  girls  moving 

343 


Robert  Kimberly 

across  the  road  from  the  parish  school  to  the 
church  and  singing  as  they  went.  The  church 
itself  was  en  fete.  Country  folk  gathered  along 
the  road-side  and  clustered  about  the  church  door 
where  a  priest  in  surplice  waited  the  coming  pro 
cession. 

Kimberly  and  Alice,  breathing  their  horses, 
halted.  Dressed  in  white,  like  child  brides,  the 
little  maidens  advanced  in  the  sunshine,  their  eyes 
cast  down  in  recollection  and  moving  together  in 
awkward,  measured  step.  From  their  wrists  hung 
rosaries.  In  their  clasped  hands  they  carried 
prayer-books  and  white  flowers,  and  white  veils 
hung  from  the  rose  wreaths  on  their  foreheads. 

"How  pretty!"  exclaimed  Kimberly  as  the 
children  came  nearer. 

"Robert,"  asked  Alice  suddenly,  "what  day  is 
this?" 

"Thursday,  isn't  it?" 

"It  is  Ascension  Thursday." 

The  church-bells  began  to  ring  clamorously  and 
the  little  girls,  walking  slowly,  ceased  their  song. 
The  lovers  waited.  Childhood,  hushed  with  ex 
pectancy  and  moving  in  the  unconscious  appeal 
of  its  own  innocence,  was  passing  them. 

The  line  met  by  the  young  priest  reached  the 
open  door.  Kimberly  noted  the  wistful  look  in 
Alice's  eyes  as  the  little  band  entered  the  church. 

343 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  watched  until  the  last  child  disappeared  and 
when  she  spoke  to  her  horse  her  eyes  were  wet. 
Her  companion  was  too  tactful  to  venture  a  ques 
tion.  They  rode  until  his  silence  told  her  he 
was  aware  of  her  agitation  and  she  turned  to 
him. 

"Do  you  know/'  she  said,  slowly  searching  his 
eyes,  "that  you  are  awfully  good  ?" 

"If  I  am,"  he  responded,  "it  is  a  discovery. 
And  the  honor,  I  fear,  is  wholly  yours." 

"It  is  something,"  she  smiled,  her  voice  very 
sweet,  "to  have  lived  to  give  that  news  to  the 
world." 

They  rode  again  in  silence.  She  felt  it  would  be 
easier  if  he  were  to  question  her,  but  it  was  only 
after  some  time  that  he  said:  "Tell  me  what  the 
little  procession  was  about." 

"I  am  ashamed  to  have  acted  in  this  way.  But 
this  was  the  day  of  my  First  Communion,  As 
cension  Thursday.  It  was  only  a  coincidence  that 
I  should  see  a  First  Communion  class  this  morn- 
ing." 

"What  is  First  Communion  ?" 

"Oh,  don't  you  know?"  There  was  a  sadness 
in  the  tone.  "You  don't,  of  course,  you  dear 
pagan.  It  is  you  who  should  have  been  the  Chris 
tian  and  I  a  pagan.  You  would  never  have  fallen 
away." 

344 


Robert  Kimberly 

"You  only  think  you  have  fallen  away,  Alice. 
You  haven't.  Sometimes  you  seem  to  act  as  if 
you  had  fallen  from  some  high  estate.  You  have 
not;  don't  think  it.  You  are  good  enough  to  be 
a  saint — do  you  give  me  credit  for  no  insight  ?  I 
tell  you,  you  haven't  fallen  away  from  your  re 
ligion.  If  you  had,  you  would  be  quite  at  ease, 
and  you  are  very  ill  at  ease  over  it.  Alice,"  he 
turned  about  in  his  saddle,  "you  would  be  happier 
if  our  marriage  could  be  approved  by  your  church." 

"It  never  can  be." 

"I  have  led  a  number  of  forlorn  hopes  in  my 
day.  I  am  going  to  try  this  one.  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  see  your  archbishop — I  have 
spoken  with  Francis  about  it.  I  am  going  to 
find  out,  if  nothing  more,  exactly  where  we  stand," 


345 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

IN  reponse  to  a  request  from  Kimberly,  Ham 
ilton    came   out   to   spend   the   night   at  The 
Towers.     Dolly  was  leaving  just   as  the  doctor 
arrived.     She  beckoned  him  to  her  car. 

"You  are  to  save  the  sixteenth  for  us,  doctor; 
don't  forget  to  tell  Mrs.  Hamilton,"  she  said. 
"We  have  persuaded  Robert  to  give  a  lawn  fete  for 
Grace  and  Larrie  and  we  want  you.  Then,  too — 
but  this  is  a  secret — Robert's  own  wedding  occurs 
two  weeks  later.  That  will  be  private,  of  course, 
so  the  affair  on  the  sixteenth  will  include  all  of  our 
friends,  and  we  want  you  to  be  sure  to  be  here." 

When  the  doctor  sat  down  with  Kimberly  in 
the  library  after  dinner,  the  latter  spoke  of  his 
coming  marriage.  "You  know,"  he  said  briefly, 
as  the  doctor  took  a  book  from  the  table,  "I  am 
going  to  make  Mrs.  MacBirney  my  wife." 

"I  do.  I  rejoice  in  it.  You  know  what  I 
think  of  her." 

"  She  has  at  last  set  the  date  and  we  are  to  be 
married  on  the  thirtieth  of  June.  It  will  be  very 
quiet,  of  course.  And,  by  the  way,  save  the  six 
teenth  of  June  for  us,  doctor." 

346 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Mrs.  De  Castro  has  told  me.  We  shall  be 
glad  to  come  out." 

"You,  I  know,  do  not  approve  of  marriages  made 
through  divorce/'  continued  Kimberly,  b.^ntly. 

"No,  nor  do  you,"  returned  the  doctor.  "Not 
as  a  general  proposition.  In  this  case,  frankly,  I 
look  on  it  as  the  most  fortunate  thing  that  has 
happened  in  the  Kimberly  family  since  your  own 
mother  married  into  it." 

"She  was  a  Whitney,"  muttered  Kimberly, 
leaning  back  and  lifting  his  chest  as  he  often  did 
when  talking.  "Arthur  De  Castro  has  a  strain 
of  that  blood.  He  has  all  her  refinement.  The 
Kimberlys  are  brutes. 

"MacBirney,"  he  went  on  abruptly,  "com 
plained  to  McCrea  yesterday — among  other  things 
that  he  wants  to  quarrel  about — that  I  had  broken 
up  his  home.  I  have  not;  I  think  you  know 
that." 

"A  man  came  to  me  the  other  day" — the  doctor 
laid  aside  his  book — "to  say  he  was  going  to  stand 
on  his  '  rights '  and  sue  for  alienation  a  man  who  had 
run  off  with  his  wife.  He  asked  me  what  I  thought 
of  it.  'I  suppose  you  want  my  honest  opinion,' 
I  replied.  'Yet  I  am  afraid  it  won't  comfort  you 
much.  What  "rights"  have  you  established  in 
your  marriage  that  anybody  is  bound  to  respect?' 
He  looked  at  me  astonished.  'The  rights  of  a 

347 


Robert  Kimberly 

husband,'  he  answered.  'Doesn't  the  law,  doesn't 
society  give  them  to  me  ?'  'A  man  that  asks  equity 
from  society,'  said  I,  'ought  to  come  into  court  with 
clean  hands/  'I  should  like  to  know  whose 
hands  are  cleaner  than  mine/  he  replied,  'I  mar 
ried,  made  a  home  for  my  wife  and  supported 
her.'  " 

Kimberly  leaning  further  back  let  his  chin  sink 
on  his  breast,  but  His  eyes  shining  under  his  black 
brows  showed  that  he  followed  the  story. 

'  But  where  are  the  fruits  of  your  marriage  ?'  I 
asked,"  continued  the  doctor,  narrating.  "  'Don't 
stare  at  me — where  are  the  children  ?  How  have 
you  lived  with  your  wife  ?  As  nature  and  law  and 
society  intended  you  should — or  as  a  mere  par 
amour?  Children  would  have  protected  your 
wife  as  a  woman;  the  care  of  children  would  have 
filled  her  life  and  turned  her  mind  from  the  dis 
traction  of  listening  to  another  man.  Why  didn't 
you  make  a  wife  and  mother  of  the  woman  you 
married  instead  of  a  creature  ?  In  that  case  you 
might  have  pleaded  "  rights."  But  you  thought 
you  could  beat  the  game;  and  the  game  has  beaten 
you.  You  thought  you  could  take  the  indulgence 
of  marriage  without  its  responsibilities.  Either 
you  debased  your  wife  to  your  level  or  allowed 
her  to  debase  you  to  hers.  Don't  talk  about 
"  rights,"  you  haven't  any.'  ' 

348 


Robert  Kimberly 

Hamilton  ceased. 

"What  did  the  fellow  say?"    asked  Kimberly. 

"What  could  he  say?"   demanded  Hamilton. 

They  sat  a  moment  in  silence. 

Kimberly  broke  it.  "It  is  a  humiliating  fact, 
Hamilton — I  often  think  of  it,"  he  said  moodily — 
"that  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  determine 
our  own  moral  standing  is  by  measuring  the 
standards  of  our  vicious  classes.  I  mean  by  our 
vicious  classes  the  social  driftwood  who  figure  in 
the  divorce  courts  and  the  scandal  of  the  day  and 
should  be  placed  in  a  social  penitentiary. 

"What  is  really  alarming  to-day  is  that  our 
standards  of  what  constitutes  vice  have  fallen  so 
low.  We  speak  of  husbands;  has  there  ever  been 
a  period  in  the  history  of  our  race  when  husbands 
have  fallen  so  low  ?  There  was  a  time  when  the 
man  that  spoke  the  English  tongue  would  defend 
his  home  with  his  life 

"In  those  days  they  had  homes  to  defend." 

" — when  it  meant  death  to  the  man  that 
crossed  the  threshold  of  his  honor " 

"They  had  honor,  too." 

"But  consider  the  baseness  the  American  hus 
band  has  reached.  When  he  suspects  his  wife's 
infidelity,  instead  of  hiding  his  possible  disgrace, 
he  employs  detectives  to  make  public  the  hu 
miliating  proofs  of  it.  He  advertises  himself  in 

349 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  bill  he  files  in  the  courts.  He  calls  on  all 
men  to  witness  his  abasement.  He  proclaims  his 
shame  from  the  housetops  and  wears  his  stripes 
as  a  robe  of  honor.  And  instead  of  killing  the 
interloper  he  brands  the  woman  that  bears  his 
name,  perhaps  the  mother  of  his  children,  as  a 
public  creature — isn't  it  curiously  infamous  ?  And 
this  is  what  our  humane,  enlightened,  and  pro 
gressive  social  views  have  brought  us  to — we  have 
fallen  too  low  to  shoot! 

"However,"  concluded  Kimberly,  shaking  him 
self  free  from  the  subject,  "my  own  situation 
presents  quite  other  difficulties.  And,  by  the  way, 
Francis  is  still  ailing.  He  asked  the  superior 
yesterday  for  a  substitute  and  went  home  ill. 
You  have  seen  Uncle  John  ?" 

"A  moment,  before  dinner." 

"Is  he  failing,  Hamilton?" 

"Mentally,  no;  physically,  he  loses  ground 
lately." 

"We  die  hard,"  said  Kimberly,  reflecting,  "we 
can't  help  it.  The  old  gentleman  certainly  bright 
ened  up  after  he  heard  of  my  coming  marriage. 
Not  that  I  told  him — Dolly  did  so.  It  pleased  him 
marvellously.  I  couldn't  understand  exactly  why, 
but  Dolly  suggested  it  was  one  of  the  natural  in 
stincts  of  Uncle  John  coming  out.  His  eyes 
sparkle  when  the  subject  is  mentioned,"  con- 

35° 


Robert  Kimberly 

tinued  Kimberly  dryly.  "I  really  think  it  is  the 
covetous  instinct  in  him  that  is  gratified.  He  has 
always  disliked  MacBirney  and  always  itched  to 
see  him  'trimmed/  This  seems  to  satisfy,  hero 
ically,  Uncle  John's  idea  of  'trimming'  him.  He 
is  as  elated  as  if  he  were  doing  the  'trimming' 
himself." 

Kimberly  explained  to  Hamilton  why  he  had 
sent  for  him  and  asked  him  for  a  letter  of  intro 
duction  to  the  archbishop,  whom  he  desired  to 
meet. 

"You  are  on  one  or  two  executive  boards  with 
him,  I  think,"  suggested  Kimberly.  "Do  you 
know  him  well  enough  to  oblige  me  ?" 

"I  know  him  very  well,"  returned  Hamilton. 
"And  you,  too,  ought  to  know  him." 

The  surgeon  wrote  the  note  at  once. 

"MOST  REVEREND  AND  DEAR  ARCHBISHOP: 

"  I  am  glad  to  introduce  to  you  my  lifelong  friend,  Mr. 

Robert  Kimberly.     It  is  a  misfortune  that  you  and  he 

should  not  have  known  each  other  before.     However,  I  am 

doubly  glad  that  it  is  my  privilege  to  make  you  acquainted. 

"Sincerely, 

"FRANK  H.HAMILTON." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

i 

KIMBERLY  was  lunching  next  day  at  the 
city  office  when  MacBirney's  name  came  in 
with  a  request  for  an  interview.  He  was  admitted 
without  delay  and  while  a  valet  removed  the  trays 
and  the  table,  Kimberly  greeted  his  visitor  and. 
indicating  a  chair,  asked  him  to  sit  down.  He  saw 
at  a  glance  the  suppressed  feeling  in  MacBirney's 
manner;  the  latter,  in  fact,  carried  himself  as  a 
man  fully  resolved  to  carry  out  a  course  yet  fear 
ful  of  the  results. 

"  I  have  come  to  give  notice  of  my  withdrawal 
from  the  June  pool  in  common,"  began  MacBir- 
ney  without  preface. 

"I  am  not  the  one  to  give  notice  to,"  returned 
Kimberly  civily,  "inasmuch  as  I  am  not  in  the 
June  pool  and  not  in  touch  with  its  operations." 

"Well,  I've  sold — I  am  selling,"  MacBirney 
corrected  himself  hastily,  "my  allotment,  no  mat 
ter  who  is  at  interest." 

"McCrea  and  my  brother  are  the  organ 
izers " 

"I  understand,"  interjected  MacBirney,  "that 
you  made  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  my  action  in 

352 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  December  pool  a  year  ago — I  give  you  no 
chance  to  say  I  haven't  served  ample  notice  this 


time." 


"On  the  contrary,  I  quieted  a  great  deal  of 
talk  about  your  action  a  year  ago.  It  was  so 
grossly  unfair  to  your  associates  that  I  ascribed 
your  unloading  of  your  stock  without  notifying 
them  to  rank  ignorance,  and  was  disposed  to 
overlook  it  on  that  ground/' 

MacBirney  smiled  with  some  sarcasm.  "Though 
you  were  careful  enough  to  say  publicly  that  you 
would  never  be  caught  in  another  pool  with  me." 

"I  never  have  been,  have  I?  And  I  did  not 
'say  publicly';  I  said  so  to  McCrea,  who  had  my 
permission  to  tell  you.  It  cost  me  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars  at  that  time  to  support  the  mar 
ket  against  you  for  three  days.  And  while  I  like 
to  see  my  associates  make  money,  I  object  to  their 
making  it  out  of  me." 

"You  didn't  say  so  to  poison  my  wife  against 
me?" 

"I  have  never,  MacBirney,  spoken  of  that  or  of 
any  other  of  your  business  affairs  to  your  wife. 
I  never  have  spoken  even  your  name  to  your  wife, 
in  praise  or  in  blame,  until  you  left  her — except 
twice  to  ask  her  if  she  loved  you.  Even  that  she 
treated  as  an  insult." 

"  You  must  have  made  some  progress  since  then." 
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Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly's  head  began  to  move  slowly  from 
side  to  side.  "I  am  told,"  added  MacBirney, 
in  a  thin,  hard  voice,  "you  are  getting  ready  to 
marry  her." 

"Quite  true,  I  am." 

MacBirney's  rage  forced  him  to  his  feet.  "I 
am  beginning  to  understand  now,  Kimberly,"  he 
framed  the  words  slowly  and  carefully,  "the  way 
you  have  plotted  against  me  from  the  start.  I  was 
warned  before  I  ever  saw  you  that  you  had  no  re 
spect  for  the  law  of  God  or  man  where  a  woman 
was  concerned.  I  was  warned  that  no  woman 
was  safe  near  you." 

Kimberly  eyed  his  enraged  associate  calmly. 
"You  are  travelling  far  in  a  few  words,  MacBirney. 
I  hope  you  understand,  once  for  all,  that  certain 
limits  cover  a  situation  even  such  as  this.  I  don't 
like  your  last  phrase.  It  might  be  made  to  apply 
unpleasantly  to  a  woman  now  very  dear  to  me.  I 

am  used  to  angry  men,  and  what  you  say  about 

» 
me 

"What  I  say  about— 

"What  you  say  about  me  is  allowable,  no  mat 
ter  what  I  think  of  it.  But  understand  this,  if 
you  say  one  word  about  her — here  or  elsewhere, 
now  or  hereafter — I  will  stop  you,  if  I  have  to 
choke  you  with  my  own  hands." 

"You  can't  scare  me,  Kimberly." 
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Robert  Kimberly 

"I  don't  want  to;  I  don't  want  to  choke  you; 
but  if  you  wish  to  see  me  try  it,  pass  that  limit 
just  once.  Now  go  on,  MacBirney." 

"I  could  have  nothing  to  say  against  Alice." 

Kimberly  nodded  heartily  in  approval. 

"  But  I  have  something  to  say  about  a  man  who 
pretended  to  be  my  friend " 

"I  never  pretended  to  be  your  friend." 

" — And  played  traitor  to  me  as  you  have  done. 
But  it's  of  a  piece  with  your  whole  record.  First 
you  got  me  down  here " 

"  I  never  got  you  down  here." 

" — Then  you  began  to  lay  your  plans  to  ruin 
my  home." 

"What  were  you  doing  all  this  time  ?  Trying 
to  circumvent  me  by  making  your  home  happy 
or  trying  to  help  me  by  neglecting  it?" 

MacBirney  shook  his  ringer  at  Kimberly  in 
rage.  "You  can't  escape  with  smooth  phrases. 
You  broke  up  my  home!" 

Kimberly  had  regained  his  coolness.  "No,  you 
broke  it  up.  Long  before  I  ever  saw  you,  you 
broke  up  your  home.  It  was  broken  up  and  only 
waiting  for  some  one  to  save  your  wife  from  the 
wreck.  MacBirney,  you  have  made  a  success  of 
your  business;  one  one-hundredth  of  the  effort  you 
have  given  to  your  business  would  have  saved  your 
home.  Yet  you  thought  you  could  treat  your  wife 

355 


Robert  Kimberly 

like  a  servant,  humiliate  and  abuse  her  and  still 
hold  her  forth  a  figurehead  for  your  'home'!" 
muttered  Kimberly  with  scorn. 

''You,  yourself,  put  her  up  to  the  divorce. 
Deny  that,  will  you  ?" 

"No,  I  will  not  deny  it,"  retorted  Kimberly  re 
lapsing  into  indifference.  "After  I  came  into  her 
life  she  followed  my  advice.  I  believe  I  have 
advised  her  for  the  best." 

"  I  see  your  finger  trailing  through  every  turn  of 
my  trouble  now.  I  saw  it  too  late.  But  I'm  not 
done  with  you.  And  Fm  not  the  only  man  that 
understands  your  trickery.  Lambert  will  have 
you  on  your  knees  in  the  sugar  business  before 
you  are  very  much  older.  Now,  I  have  come  to 
you  with  a  straight  proposition.  I  want  the  es 
crow  control  of  the  Western  refineries.  If  you  are 
ready  to  give  it  to  me  we  will  make  a  working 
agreement  and  have  peace.  If  you  are  not,  I  will 
back  Lambert  in  a  string  of  modern  plants  that 
will  drive  you  out  of  the  Western  field.  We  are 
ready;  the  question  for  you  to  consider  is  whether 
you  want  to  compromise." 

At  this  threat  Kimberly,  so  far  as  the  words 
could  be  used  of  him,  went  to  pieces.  To  be  out 
faced  in  his  own  headquarters  by  one  whom  he 
would  have  termed  a  hare-brained  upstart  in  the 
refining  world  was  too  much  for  his  poise.  The 

356 


Robert  Kimberly 

only  outward  indication  of  his  surprise  and  dis 
gust  was  a  smile;  but  it  was  a  dangerous  smile. 
"  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  enough  of  a  business  man 
to  compromise,  MacBirney,"  he  responded  in 
low  tones.  "You  can't  have  the  escrow  control 
of  the  Western  refineries." 

"Very  good.  That  decision  suits  me.  I  am 
now  practically  out  of  your  stock;  we  shall  see 
what  we  shall  see." 

"One  moment,  MacBirney,"  said  Kimberly, 
moved  by  some  sudden  impulse  of  mercy  follow 
ing  his  rage,  as  if  MacBirney  wyere  really  too  small 
fry  to  pit  himself  against.  "  You  have  brought  a 
personal  affair  and  a  business  affair  before  me. 
The  business  affair,  as  you  are  still  my  associate,  I 
may  say  a  word  on.  Don't  put  any  money  you 
can't  afford  to  lose  behind  Lambert,  for  it  will 
all  go.  I  myself  have  not  got  resources  enough  to 
give  that  man  a  free  hand.  He  has  a  genius  in  one 
direction — that  of  talking  men  out  of  their  money. 

"Moreover,  in  this  case  there  is  a  personal 
friction  of  long  standing  between  him  and  me,  and 
I  will  never  let  him  lift  his  head  in  the  sugar  busi 
ness  in  this  country  while  I  am  at  the  head  of 
these  companies,  not  if  I  have  to  work  twenty-four 
hours  a  day  to  clean  him  out.  But  that  would 
not  be  necessary — for  he  will  not  only  attend  to 
ruining  himself  but  to  ruining  every  man  that 

357 


Robert  Kimberly 

goes  with  him.  If  you  want  to  quit  us,  do  so. 
Build  as  many  refineries  as  you  like  and  we  will 
try  to  get  on  peaceably  with  you — though  I  my 
self  would  not  put  a  dollar  into  new  refineries 
to-day.  You  are  rich;  you  had  eight  hundred 
thousand  dollars  when  I  paid  you  for  your  junk, 
and  you  made  two  million  dollars  in  the  Decem 
ber  pool  alone — a  good  part  of  it  out  of  me.  You 
will  take  from  these  offices  eight  million  dollars  in 
less  than  three  years." 

MacBirney's  alarm  at  Kimberly's  intimate 
knowledge  of  his  resources  showed  in  his  face. 
"In  railroads  you  might  make  it  forty  millions 
in  the  next  ten  years,  with  even  average  prudence," 
continued  Kimberly  calmly.  "Sugar  will  be  a 
load,  anyway  you  go  into  it;  but  sugar  and  Lam 
bert  will  beat  you  to  a  frazzle." 

Charles  Kimberly  walked  into  the  room  as  his 
brother  concluded.  "  Talk  a  few  moments  with 
Charles  about  this,"  suggested  Kimberly,  coolly, 
ringing  for  his  office  secretary. 

"MacBirney,"  explained  Robert  Kimberly  to 
his  brother,  "has  sold  out  his  common  and  has 
a  lot  of  money  loose.  I  am  telling  him  to  go  in 
for  railroads." 

The  secretary  entered.  Robert  Kimberly  after 
giving  him  some  directions,  got  into  his  car  and 
was  driven  up-town  to  the  residence  of  the  arch- 


Robert  Kimberly 

bishop.  He  alighted  before  a  large,  remodelled 
city  house  not  far  from  the  cathedral.  A  mes 
senger  had  already  delivered  Hamilton's  letter  of 
introduction  and  Kimberly  was  presenting  him 
self  by  appointment. 

At  the  door  a  man-servant  took  his  card  and  he 
was  met  in  the  reception  room  by  a  young  clergy 
man,  who  conducted  him  to  the  second  floor.  As 
Kimberly  entered  the  large  room  into  which  he 
was  ushered  he  saw  the  prelate  rising  from  his 
table.  He  was  a  grave  man  and  somewhat  spare 
in  his  height,  slightly  stooped  with  the  passing  of 
seventy  years,  and  bearing  in  the  weariness  of  his 
face  an  expression  of  kindliness  and  intelligence. 

"This  is  a  pleasure,  Mr.  Kimberly/'  he  said, 
extending  his  hand. 

"It  is  a  pleasure  for  me,  your  grace." 

"Come  this  way,"  continued  the  archbishop, 
indicating  a  divan  in  one  corner  of  the  room. 

"  I  brought  no  letter  of  introduction  other  than 
that  from  Doctor  Hamilton,  which  I  sent  you," 
Kimberly  began  as  the  archbishop  seated  him 
self. 

"Surely,  you  did  not  consider  even  Doctor  Ham 
ilton's  note  necessary,"  returned  the  archbishop, 
while  his  secretary  withdrew.  "Your  name  and 
that  of  your  family  have  been  familiar  to  me  for 
many  years.  And  I  fear  those  of  my  people  who 

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Robert  Kimberly 

venture  in  upon  you  with  their  petitions  do  not 
always  bring  letters." 

"You  have  occupied  this  see  for  many  years," 
suggested  Kimberly  in  compliment. 

"As  priest  and  bishop  I  have  lived  in  this  diocese 
more  than  forty  years.  It  seems  a  long  time.  Yet 
the  name  of  Kimberly  was  very  old  here  when  I 
came,  and  without  ever  meeting  one  of  your  family, 
I  have  heard  much  of  you  all  since.  So  if  there 
were  no  other  reason,  I  should  welcome  your  call 
as  an  opportunity  to  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am, 
and  the  charities  of  the  archdiocese  are,  for  your 
repeated  generosities.  You  know  we  are  not 
blessed  among  our  own  people  with  many  bene 
factors  of  large  means.  And  the  calls  come  upon 
us  with  surprising  frequency." 

"My  father,"  responded  Kimberly,  "who  was 
more  of  a  philosopher  than  a  merchant,  im 
pressed  me  very  early  with  the  truth  that  your 
church  was  a  bulwark  of  social  order — one  which 
to  that  extent  laid  all  thoughtful  men  under  a 
debt  to  it." 

"You  are  a  man  of  wide  interests,  Mr.  Kim 
berly." 

"The  country  grows  too  fast,  your  grace. 
There  seems  no  escape  from  expansion." 

"Yet  you  find  time  for  all  of  your  work  ?>J 

Kimberly  made  a  deprecatory  gesture.  "My 
.360 


Robert  Kimberly 

chief  affair  is  to  find  men  to  do  my  work  for  me. 
Personally,  I  am  fairly  free/' 

"From  all  save  responsibility,  perhaps.  I 
know  how  hard  it  is  to  delegate  that.  And  you 
give  all  of  your  energy  to  business.  You  have 
no  family?" 

"No,  and  this  brings  me  to  the  object  of  my 
visit."  Kimberly  paused  a  moment.  "I  shall 
soon  enter  into  marriage." 

"Ah,  I  see!" 

"And  the  subject  is  a  difficult  one  to  lay  before 
your  grace." 

The  archbishop  saw  an  indefinable  embarrass 
ment  in  his  visitor's  manner  and  raised  his  thin 
hand.  "Then  it  has  every  claim  to  sympathetic 
consideration.  Forget  for  a  moment  that  I  am 
almost  a  stranger — I  am  certainly  no  stranger  to 
difficulties.  And  do  no  longer  address  me  for 
mally.  I  said  a  moment  ago  that  I  was  glad  to 
meet  you  if  only  to  thank  you  for  your  responses 
to  our  numerous  needs.  But  there  is  another 
reason. 

"When  I  was  a  young  man,  first  ordained,  my 
charge  was  the  little  village  of  Sunbury  up  in  the 
lake  country.  You  may  imagine  how  familiar 
the  Kimberly  estates  became  to  me  in  my  daily 
rounds  of  exercise.  I  heard  much  of  your  peo 
ple.  Some  of  their  households  were  of  my  con- 

361 


Robert  Kimberly 

gregation.  Your  mother  I  never  met.  I  used 
to  hear  of  her  as  exceedingly  frail  in  health. 
Once,  at  least,  I  recall  seeing  her  driving.  But 
her  servants  at  The  Towers  were  always  in 
structed  not  alone  to  offer  rne  flowers  for  the 
altar  but  diligently  to  see  that  the  altar  was  gen 
erously  provided  from  her  gardens  and  hot 
houses. 

"  I  once  learned,"  the  archbishop's  head  drooped 
slightly  in  the  reminiscence  and  his  eyes  rested  full 
upon  his  visitor,  "that  she  was  passing  through  a 
dreaded  ordeal,  concerning  which  many  feared  for 
her.  It  was  on  a  Sunday  before  mass  that  the 
word  came  to  me.  And  at  the  mass  I  told  my 
little  flock  that  the  patroness  to  whom  we  owed 
our  constant  offering  of  altar  flowers  was  passing 
that  morning  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  and  I  asked  them  to  pray  for  her  with 
me.  You  were  born  on  a  Sunday,  Mr.  Kimberly." 
Kimberly  did  not  break  the  silence  and  the  arch 
bishop  spoke  on.  "You  see  I  am  quite  old  enough 
myself  to  be  your  father.  I  remember  reading  an 
account  of  your  baptism." 

Kimberly  looked  keenly  into  the  clear,  gray 
eyes.  Not  a  shade  of  thought  in  the  mind  of  the 
man  before  him  was  lost  upon  his  penetration. 
"Any  recollection  of  my  mother,"  he  said  slowly, 
"touches  me  deeply.  To  think  that  you  recall  her 

362 


Robert  Kimberly 

so  beautifully  is  very  grateful  to  me — as  you  may 
well  imagine.  And  that  was  my  birthday!  Then 
if  my  mother  was,  or  I  have  ever  been,  able  to 
help  you  I  am  sure  we  are  repaid  in  being  so  re 
membered  all  these  years.  I  lost  my  father  and 
my  mother  many  years  ago " 

He  paused.  "It  is  very  pleasant  to  be  remem 
bered,"  he  repeated  uncertainly,  as  if  collecting 
himself.  "I  shall  never  forget  what  you  have 
just  told  me.  And  I  thank  you  now  for  the 
prayers  you  said  for  my  mother  when  she  brought 
me  into  the  world.  Your  grace,"  he  added 
abruptly,  "I  am  greatly  perplexed." 

"Tell  me  frankly,  how  and  why." 

"  I  came  here  with  some  confidence  of  getting 
what  I  should  ask  for.  I  am  naturally  a  con 
fident  man.  Yet  my  assurance  deserts  me.  It 
seerns,  suddenly,  that  my  mission  here  is  vain, 
that  my  hopes  have  deluded  me — I  even  ask 
myself  why  I  have  come.  I  could  almost  say  I 
am  sorry  that  I  have  come." 

The  archbishop  lifted  his  hand  to  speak.  "Be 
lieve  me,  it  is  not  other  than  for  good  that  you 
have  come,"  he  said. 

Kimberly  looked  at  him  questioningly.  "I 
cannot  tell  for  what  good,"  added  the  archbishop 
as  if  to  say  he  could  not  answer  the  unspoken 
question.  "But  believe  me,  you  have  done 

363 


Robert  Kimberly 

right  and  not  wrong  in  coming — of  that  I  am 
sure.  Tell  me,  first,  what  you  came  to  tell  me, 
what  it  is  in  your  heart  that  has  brought  you 
here." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

"  T  must  tell  you,"  began  Kimberly,  "that  while 
A  seemingly  in  a  wide  authority  in  directing  the 
business  with  which  I  am  connected  I  am  not 
always  able  to  do  just  as  I  please.  Either  volun 
tarily  or  involuntarily,  I  yield  at  times  to  the  views 
of  those  associated  with  me.  If  my  authority  is 
final,  I  prefer  not  to  let  the  fact  obtrude  itself. 
Again,  circumstances  are  at  times  too  strong  for 
any  business  man  to  set  his  mere  personal  views 
against.  Yielding  some  years  ago  to  the  repre 
sentations  of  my  associates  I  took  into  our  com 
panies  a  group  of  Western  factories  controlled  by 
a  man  whom  I  distrusted. 

"To  protect  our  interests  it  was  necessary  to 
move,  in  the  premises,  in  one  of  two  ways.  I 
favored  the  alternative  or  driving  him  out  of  the 
business  then  and  there.  There  were  difficulties 
in  either  direction.  If  we  ruined  him  we  should 
be  accused  of '  trust  methods,'  of  crushing  a  com 
petitor,  and  should  thus  incur  added  public  enmity. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  contended  if  the  man  were 
untrustworthy  he  would  grow  more  dangerous 

365 


Robert  Kimberly 

with  power.  I  need  hardly  explain  to  an  intelli- 
gent  man,  regardless  of  his  views  on  trusts,  that 
any  man  of  integrity,  no  matter  how  threatening 
or  violent  a  competitor  he  may  be  in  the  beginning, 
is  a  man  we  welcome  as  an  associate  into  our 
business.  We  need  him  just  as  he  needs  us — 
but  that  is  aside.  We  took  the  man  in " 

"Against  your  judgment  ?" 

"Against  my  judgment.  I  never  met  him 
until  he  came  East.  My  estimates  of  him  were 
made  wholly  on  his  record,  and  I  knew  what  is 
known  to  but  few — that  he  had  ruined  his  own 
father-in-law,  who  died  a  bankrupt  directly 
through  this  man's  machinations,  and  without 
ever  suspecting  him.  This  seemed  to  me  so  un 
speakable,  so  cannibalistic,  that  I  never  needed  to 
know  anything  further  of  the  man.  Yet  I  took 
him  in,  determined  only  to  add  a  new  care  in 
watching  him  and  still  to  keep  him  in  my  power 
so  that  I  could  crush  him  if  he  ever  played 
false. 

"  He  came  to  us — and  brought  his  wife.  I  knew 
the  man  thoroughly  the  instant  I  set  eyes  on  him. 
His  appearance  confirmed  my  impression.  But  I 
met  his  wife,  and  found  in  her  a  woman  to  en 
gage  respect,  homage,  and  devotion,  one  with  a 
charm  of  manner  and  person  to  me  unequalled; 
with  a  modesty  coupled  with  spirit  and  humor  that 

366 


Robert  Kimberly 

confounded  my  ideas  of  women — a  woman,  in  a 
word,  like  my  own  mother.  I  am  keeping  noth 
ing  from  you " 

"Your  confidence  is  safely  bestowed." 
"I  was  moved  the  moment  I  saw  her.  But  un 
happy  experiences  had  checked  and  changed  me 
somewhat.  I  did  not  disclose  my  feelings  though 
I  already  knew  how  she  affected  me.  If  I  had 
misjudged  her  husband  I  would  make  amends — 
on  her  account.  Then  as  I  watched  them  the 
question  came  to  me — how  is  he  treating  her  ?  I 
will  make,  for  her  sake,  a  new^  judgment  of  him,  I 
said.  But  I  saw  him  as  indifferent  to  her  as  if  she 
did  not  exist.  I  saw  him  neglect  her  and  go  out 
of  his  way  to  humiliate  her  with  attentions  to 
women  of  our  circle  that  were  not  fit  to  be  her 
servants.  I  asked  myself  whether  she  could  be 
happy — and  I  saw  that  as  far  as  affection  was 
concerned  she  sat  at  a  hearthstone  of  ashes. 

"Even  her  religion — she  was  a  Catholic — with 
petty  and  contemptible  persecutions  he  had 
robbed  her  of.  She  was  wretched  and  I  knew  it 
before  I  let  even  her  suspect  my  interest.  After 
that  I  vacillated,  not  knowing  what  I  should  do. 
I  advanced  and  retreated  in  a  way  I  never  did 
before.  But  one  day — it  was  an  accident — her 
ankle  turned  as  she  stepped  out  of  her  car  and  as 
she  fell  forward  I  caught  her  on  my  arm.  She  re- 

367 


Robert  Kimberly 

pelled  me  in  an  instant.  But  from  that  moment 
I  determined  to  win  her  for  my  wife." 

The  archbishop  regarded  him  in  silence. 

"I  am  telling  you  the  exact  truth.  It  would 
profit  me  nothing  to  deceive  you,  nor  have  I  ever 
deceived  myself  or  her.  She  fought  my  persistence 
with  all  her  strength.  I  tried  to  make  her  see  that 
I  was  right  and  she  was  wrong,  and  my  best  aid 
came  from  her  own  husband.  I  knew  it  would 
be  said  I  was  to  blame.  But  this  man  never  had 
made  a  home  in  any  sense  for  his  wife.  And  if  it 
could  be  urged  that  he  ever  did  do  so,  it  was  he, 
long  before  I  ever  saw  him,  who  wrecked  it — not 
his  wife — not  I." 

"You  say  she  was  a  Catholic.  Has  this  poor 
child  lost  her  faith?" 

Kimberly  paused.  "I  do  not  know.  I  should 
say  that  whatever  her  faith  was,  he  robbed  her 
of  it." 

"Do  not  say  exactly  that.  You  have  said  we 
must  not  deceive  ourselves  and  you  are  right — 
this  is  of  first  importance.  And  for  this  reason 
alone  I  say,  no  one  can  deprive  me  of  my  faith 
without  my  consent;  if  I  part  with  it,  I  do  so  vol 
untarily." 

"I  understand,  quite.  Whatever  I  myself 
might  profess,  I  feel  I  should  have  no  difficulty  in 
practising.  But  here  is  a  delicate  woman  in  the 

368 


Robert  Kimberly 

power  of  a  brute.  There  is  an  element  of  coercion 
which  should  not  be  lost  sight  of  and  it  might 
worry  such  a  woman  out  of  the  possession  of  her 
principles.  However,  whatever  the  case  may  be, 
she  does  not  go  to  church.  She  says  she  never  can. 
But  some  keen  unhappiness  lies  underneath  the  rea 
son — if  I  could  explain  it  I  should  not  be  here." 

"Has  she  left  her  husband?" 

"No.  He,  after  one  of  his  periodical  fits  of 
abuse,  and  I  suspect  violence,  left  her,  and  not 
until  he  knew  he  had  lost  her  did  he  make  any 
effort  to  claim  her  again.  But  he  had  imperilled 
her  health — it  is  this  that  is  my  chief  anxiety — 
wrecked  her  happiness,  and  made  himself  intoler 
able  by  his  conduct.  She  divorced  him  and  is 
free  forever  from  his  brutality. 

"So  I  have  come  to  you.  I  am  to  make  her 
my  wife — after  I  had  thought  never  to  make  any 
woman  my  wife — and  for  me  it  is  a  very  great  hap 
piness.  It  is  a  happiness  to  my  brother  and  my 
sister.  Through  it,  the  home  and  the  family  which 
we  believed  was  fated  to  die  with  this  generation — 
my  brother  is,  unhappily,  childless — may  yet  live. 
Can  you  understand  all  this?" 

"I  understand  all." 

"Help  me  in  some  way  to  reconcile  her  religious 
difficulties,  to  remove  if  possible,  this  source  of 
her  unhappiness.  Is  it  asking  too  much?" 

369 


Robert  Kimberly 

The  archbishop  clasped  his  hands.  His  eyes 
fixed  slowly  upon  Kimberly.  "  You  know,  do  you 
not,  that  the  Catholic  Church  cannot  countenance 
the  remarriage  of  a  wife  while  the  husband  lives." 

"I  know  this.  I  have  a  profound  respect  for 
the  principles  that  restrain  the  abuses  of  divorce. 
But  I  am  a  business  man  and  I  know  that  nothing 
is  impossible  of  arrangement  when  it  is  right  that 
it  should  be  arranged.  This,  I  cannot  say  too 
strongly,  is  the  exceptional  case  and  therefore  I 
believe  there  is  a  way.  If  you  were  to  come  to 
me  with  a  difficult  problem  within  the  province 
of  my  affairs  as  I  come  to  you  bringing  one  within 
yours,  I  should  find  a  means  to  arrange  it — if 
the  case  had  merit." 

"Unhappily,  you  bring  before  me  a  question  in 
which  neither  the  least  nor  the  greatest  of  the 
church — neither  bishop  nor  pope — has  the  slightest 
discretionary  power.  The  indissolubility  of  mar 
riage  is  not  a  matter  of  church  discipline;  it  is  a 
law  of  divine  institution.  Christ's  own  words 
bear  no  other  meaning.  'What  God  hath  joined 
together  let  not  man  put  asunder.'  He  declared 
that  in  restoring  the  indissolubility  of  marriage  he 
only  reestablished  what  was  from  the  beginning, 
though  Moses  because  of  Jewish  hardness  of  heart 
had  tolerated  a  temporary  departure.  No  con 
sent  that  I  could  give,  Mr.  Kimberly,  to  a  mar- 

370 


Robert  Kimberly 

riage  such  as  you  purpose,  would  in  the  least 
alter  its  status.  I  am  helpless  to  relieve  either 
of  you  in  contracting  it. 

"It  is  true  that  the  church  in  guarding  sacredly 
the  marriage  bond  is  jealous  that  it  shall  be  a 
marriage  bond  that  she  undertakes  to  guard.  If 
there  should  have  been  an  impediment  in  this  first 
marriage — but  I  hardly  dare  think  of  it,  for  the 
chances  are  very  slender.  A  prohibited  degree  of 
kindred  would  nullify  a  marriage.  There  is 
nothing  of  this,  I  take  it.  If  consent  had  clearly 
been  lacking — we  cannot  hope  for  that.  If  her 
husband  never  had  been  baptized " 

"What  difference  would  that  maker" 

"A  Christian  could  not  contract  marriage  writh 
a  pagan — such  a  union  would  be  null." 

"Would  a  good  Catholic  enter  into  such  a 
union  ?" 

"No." 

Kimberly  shook  his  head.  "Then  she  would 
not.  If  she  had  been  a  disgrace  to  her  religion 
she  might  have  done  it.  If  she  had  been  a  woman 
of  less  character,  less  intelligence  it  might  be. 
If  she  had  been  a  worse  Catholic,"  he  concluded 
with  a  tinge  of  bitterness,  "she  might  stand  better 


now." 


"Better    perhaps,    as    to    present    difficulties; 
worse  as  to  that  character  which  you  have  just 


Robert  Kimberly 

paid  tribute  to;  which  makes,  in  part,  her  charm 
as  a  woman — the  charm  of  any  good  woman  to 
a  good  man.  You  cannot  have  and  not  have. 
When  you  surrender  character  a  great  deal  goes 
with  it." 

The  archbishop's  words  sounded  a  knell  to 
Kimberly's  hopes,  and  his  manner  as  he  spoke 
reflected  the  passing  of  his  momentary  encourage 
ment.  "There  is  nothing  then  that  you  can  do." 

"If  there  be  no  defect — if  this  first  marriage 
was  a  valid  marriage — I  am  powerless  in  the  cir 
cumstances.  I  can  do  nothing  to  allow  her  to  re 
marry  while  her  husband  lives." 

Kimberly  arose.  "We  cannot,  of  course,  kill 
him,"  he  said  quietly.  "And  I  am  sorry,"  he 
added,  as  if  to  close  the  interview,  "not  to  be  able 
to  relieve  her  mind.  I  have  made  an  effort  to 
lay  before  you  the  truth  and  the  merit  of  the  case 
as  far  as  she  is  concerned.  I  had  hoped  by  being 
absolutely  unreserved  to  invoke  successfully  some 
thing  of  that  generosity  which  you  find  edifying 
in  others;  to  find  something  of  that  mercy  and 
tolerance  which  are  always  so  commendable  when 
your  church  is  not  called  on  to  exercise  them." 

The  archbishop,  too,  had  risen.  The  two  men 
faced  each  other.  If  the  elder  felt  resentment, 
none  was  revealed  in  his  manner  or  in  his  answer. 
"You  said  a  few  moments  ago  that  you  could 

372 


Robert  Kimberly 

not  always  do  as  you  pleased, "  he  began;  "I, 
too,  am  one  under  authority."  His  fingers  closed 
over  the  cross  on  his  breast.  "All  generosity,  all 
mercy,  all  tolerance  that  lie  within  His  law,  nothing 
could  prevent  my  granting  to  you,  and  to  less  than 
you — to  the  least  of  those  that  could  ask  it.  I 
know  too  much  of  the  misery,  the  unhappiness  of  a 
woman's  life  and  of  the  love  she  gives  to  man,  to 
withhold  anything  within  my  power  to  alleviate 
her  suffering. 

"I  have  wounded  you,  and  you  rebuke  me  with 
harsh  words.  But  do  not  carry  harshness  against 
me  in  your  heart.  Let  us  be  sure  that  these  words 
mean  the  same  thing  to  both  of  us.  If  generosity 
and  tolerance  are  to  override  a  law  given  by  God, 
of  what  use  am  I  ?  Why  am  I  here  to  be  ap 
pealed  to  ?  On  the  other  hand,  if  by  generosity  or 
tolerance  you  mean  patience  toward  those  who 
do  not  recognize  the  law  that  binds  me,  if  you 
mean  hesitancy  in  judging  those  whose  views  and 
practices  differ  from  my  own,  then  I  have  the 
right  to  ask  you  to  grant  these  qualities  to  me. 

"But  if  you  appeal  to  the  laws  and  principles  of 
Catholic  truth,  they  are  intolerant,  because  truth 
cannot  compromise.  My  church,  which  you  re 
buke  with  this  intolerance,  is  the  bearer  of  a  mes 
sage  from  God  to  mankind.  If  men  already 
possessed  this  message  there  would  be  little  reason 

373 


Robert  Kimberly 

for  the  existence  of  such  a  church.  The  very 
reason  of  her  being  is  to  convince  men  of  the 
truth  of  which  they  are  not  yet  convinced. 

"Either  she  is  the  divinely  commissioned  mes 
senger  of  God  or  she  is  not — and  if  not,  her  pre 
tensions  are  the  most  arrogant  the  world  has  ever 
seen  and  her  authority  is  the  cruelest  mockery. 
And  so  you  view  the  church,  so  the  world  views 
it — this  I  wrell  know.  It  is  painful  sometimes, 
it  is  at  this  moment,  to  insist  upon  a  law  that  I 
have  no  power  to  set  aside — but  to  do  less  would 
be  simply  a  betrayal  of  my  trust.  And  if  this 
were  the  price  of  what  you  term  ' tolerance,'  I 
must  rest  with  my  church  under  the  stigmas  you 
put  upon  us." 

Kimberly's  anger  rose  rather  than  abated  with 
the  archbishop's  words.  "Of  course/7  he  re 
torted  without  trying  to  conceal  his  anger,  "it 
makes  a  difference  who  seeks  relief.  Your  church 
can  find  no  relief  for  a  helpless  woman.  As  I 
remember,  you  accommodated  Napoleon  quickly 
enough." 

"Certain  unworthy  ecclesiastics  of  my  church, 
constituting  an  ecclesiastical  court,  pretended  to 
find  his  marriage  with  Josephine  invalid;  the  church 
never  confirmed  their  verdict.  Thirteen  of  its 
cardinals  suffered  Napoleon's  penalties  because  of 
their  protest  against  his  remarriage.  Let  us  par- 

374 


Robert  Kimberly 

allel  the  case.  Suppose  I  could  offer  to  join  with 
you  in  a  conspiracy.  Suppose  we  should  assure 
this  suffering  soul  that  she  is  free  to  remarry. 
Assume  that  I  could  make  myself  a  party  to  de 
ceiving  her — would  you  be  party  with  me,  to  it  ? 
Do  I  mistake,  if  I  believe  you  could  not  conspire 
in  such  a  baseness?" 

"I  do  not  deal  in  deceptions." 

"Do  you  admire  Napoleon's  methods?" 

"Not  all  of  them." 

"Let  us,  then,  Mr.  Kimberly,  bear  our  burdens 
without  invoking  his  duplicity." 

"We  can  do  that,  your  grace,"  answered  Kim 
berly  coldly.  "But  we  shall  also  be  obliged  to 
bear  them  without  relief  from  where  we  had  the 
most  right  to  look  for  it.  It  was  not  for  myself 
that  I  came  to  you.  I  sought  to  restore  to  your 
church  one  who  has  been  driven  from  it  by  a 
wretch.  I  should  have  been  better  advised;  I 
was  too  hopeful.  Your  policy  is,  as  it  always 
has  been,  hopelessly  fixed  and  arbitrary.  You 
encourage  those  who  heap  upon  you  the  greatest 
abuse  and  contempt  and  drive  from  your  doors 
those  disposed  to  meet  you  upon  any  reasonable 
composition  of  a  difficulty.  I  should  only  wound 
vou  if  I  attempted  to  answer  your  last  rebuke." 


t( 


You  are  going- 
"Yes  " 


375 


Robert  Kimberly 

"And  you  go  with  bitterness.  Believe  me,  it  is 
not  pleasant  to  be  without  the  approbation  of  the 
well-disposed  who  think  and  believe  differently 
from  ourselves.  But  if  as  Catholics  we  regard  it 
a  privilege  to  possess  the  truth  we  must  be  pre 
pared  to  pay  the  price  it  exacts.  The  world  will 
always  think  us  wrong,  a  peculiar  people  and  with 
principles  beyond  its  comprehension.  We  can 
not  help  it.  It  has  always  been  so,  it  always 
must  be  so.  Good-by." 

"Good-by." 

"If  dividing  a  burden  lightens  it,  remember  you 
have  three  now  to  bear  yours  instead  of  two.  I 
shall  not  forget  either  of  you  in  my  prayers,  cer 
tainly  not  this  dear  soul  of  whom  you  have  told 
me.  This  is  my  poor  offering  to  you  and  to  her 
for  all  you  have  done  for  those  that  come  to  you 
in  my  name/' 


376 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

T?OLLOWING  the  visit  to  the  archbishop, 
JL  McCrea,  who  had  been  on  nettles  to  get  hold 
of  Kimberly  for  a  trip  of  inspection,  whisked  him 
away  for  two  days  among  the  seaboard  refineries. 

Instead,  however,  of  the  two  days  planned  by 
McCrea,  the  inspection  kept  Kimberly,  much  to 
his  annoyance,  for  three  days.  The  date  set  for 
Grace's  fete  found  him  still  inspecting,  but  growing 
hourly  more  unmanageable,  and  before  breakfast 
was  over  on  the  third  morning  McCrea  began  to 
feel  the  violence  of  Kimberly's  protests. 

By  the  most  ingenious  activity  on  the  part  of 
the  alert  McCrea  and  his  powerful  railroad  friends 
the  day's  programme  for  the  party  was  hastened 
to  completion  and  the  indignant  magnate  was  re 
turned  by  train  to  Second  Lake  in  time  for  dinner. 

He  drove  home  by  way  of  Cedar  Point,  and  Alice, 
who  had  been  constantly  in  touch  with  him  on  the 
telephone,  felt  the  elation  of  his  presence  when  she 
saw  him  alight  from  his  car  and  walk  across  the 
terrace  to  where  she  and  Fritzie,  dressed  for  the 
evening,  were  feeding  the  goldfish. 

377 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly  took  her  hands  as  she  ran  forward  to 
meet  him.  "I  thought  you  were  never  coming!" 
she  exclaimed. 

"For  a  while  I  thought  so  myself." 

"And  you  saw  the  archbishop  ?"  she  murmured 
eagerly.  "He  could  do  nothing?" 

He  regarded  her  with  affection.  "I  had  set  my 
heart  on  bringing  back  good  news." 

"I  knew  there  was  no  chance,"  said  Alice  as 
if  to  anticipate  a  failure.  "But  it  was  like  you 
to  try.  You  are  always  doing  unpleasant  things 
for  me." 

He  saw  the  disappointment  under  her  cheerful 
ness.  "And  though  I  did  fail — you  love  me  just 
the  same  ?" 

She  looked  into  his  searching  eyes  simply. 
"Always." 

"And  we  marry  two  weeks  from  to-night?" 

"Two  weeks  from  to-night,"  she  answered, 
smiling  still,  but  with  a  tremor  in  her  steady  voice. 
Then  she  clasped  her  hands. 

"What  is  it?"   he  asked. 

Standing  in  the  sunset  before  him — and  he  al 
ways  remembered  her  as  she  stood  then — Kim 
berly  saw  in  her  eyes  the  fires  of  the  devotion  he 
had  lighted.  "I  hope,"  she  whispered,  "I  can 
make  you  happy." 

"You  would  make  a  stone  happy,"  he  rnur- 
378 


Robert  Kimberly 

mured,  breathing  the  fragrance  of  her  being  as 
she  looked  up  at  him. 

It  was  evening  when  he  saw  her  again  and  he 
stood  with  Dolly  and  Imogene  who  were  receiving. 

The  night  was  warm  and  the  guests  sought  the 
lawns,  the  garden,  and  the  groves.  When  a  horn 
blown  across  the  terrace  announced  dancing,  slight 
and  graceful  women,  whose  draperies  revealed  mere 
delicate  outlines  of  breathing  creatures,  came  like 
fairies  out  of  the  night.  The  ballroom,  in  candle 
light,  was  cool,  and  only  the  ceiling  frescoes,  art 
fully  heightened  by  lights  diffused  under  ropes  of 
roses,  were  brighter  than  the  rest  of  the  room. 

As  the  last  guests  arrived  from  town — Cready 
Hamilton  and  his  wife  with  Doctor  Hamilton  and 
the  Brysons — Kimberly  walked  into  the  ballroom. 
He  caught  Alice's  eye  and  made  his  way  toward 
her. 

She  smiled  as  he  asked  for  a  dance.  "Do  you 
realize,"  said  he  as  she  rose,  "that  this  is  your  first 
— and  your  last — dance  at  The  Towers  as  a  guest  ? 
Next  time  you  will  be  hostess — won't  you  r " 

A  sound  of  breaking  glass  crashing  above  the 
music  of  the  violins  took  Alice's  answer  from  her 
lips.  Every  one  started.  Women  looked  ques- 
tioningly  at  the  men.  Alice  shrank  to  Kimberly's 
side.  "Merciful  Heaven!"  she  whispered,  "what 


was  that?" 


379 


Robert  Kimberly 

He  answered  lightly.  "Something  has  smashed. 
Whatever  it  is,  it  is  of  no  consequence." 

The  music  continuing  without  interruption  re 
assured  the  timid.  There  was  no  sequence  to 
the  alarming  sound,  the  flow  of  conversation 
reasserted  itself  and  in  a  moment  the  incident 
was  forgotten. 

But  Kimberly  perceived  by  Alice's  pallor  that 
she  was  upset.  "Come  out  into  the  air  ,"  he  said, 
"for  a  moment." 

"But  don't  you  want  to  see  what  it  was  ?" 

"Some  one  else  will  do  that;  come." 

She  clung  to  his  arm  as  they  passed  through  an 
open  door.  "You  don't  seem  just  well,  dearie," 
he  said,  taking  her  hand  within  his  own.  "Let 
us  sit  down." 

He  gave  her  a  chair.  She  sank  into  it,  supporting 
her  head  on  her  other  hand.  "  I  haven't  been  quite 
well  for  a  day  or  two,  Robert.  I  feel  very  strange." 

Kimberly  with  his  handkerchief  wiped  the 
dampness  from  her  forehead.  Her  distress  in 
creased  and  he  realized  that  she  was  ill.  "Alice, 
let  me  take  you  upstairs  a  moment.  Perhaps  you 
need  a  restorative." 

The  expression  on  her  face  alarmed  him.  They 
rose  just  as  Dolly  hastened  past.  "Oh,  you  are 
here!"  she  cried,  seeing  Kimberly.  "Why,  what 
is  the  matter  with  Alice?" 

380 


Robert  Kimberly 

Alice  herself  answered.  "A  faintness,  dear," 
she  said  with  an  effort.  "I  think  that  awful 
crash  startled  me.  What  was  it?" 

Dolly  leaned  forward  with  a  suppressed  whisper. 
"Don't  mention  it!  Robert,  the  Dutch  mirror  in 
the  dining-room  has  fallen.  It  smashed  a  whole 
tableful  of  glass.  The  servants  are  frightened  to 
death." 

"No  one  was  hurt?"    said  Kimberly. 

"Fortunately  no  one.     I  must  find  Imogene." 

She  hurried  on.  Alice  asked  Kimberly  to  take 
her  back  to  the  ballroom.  He  urged  her  to  go 
upstairs  and  lie  down  for  a  moment. 

The  music  for  the  dance  was  still  coming  from 
within  and  against  Kimberly's  protest  Alice  in 
sisted  on  going  back.  He  gave  way  and  led  her 
out  upon  the  floor.  For  a  few  measures,  with  a 
determined  effort,  she  followed  him.  Then  she 
glided  mechanically  on,  supported  only  by  Kim 
berly  and  leaning  with  increasing  weakness  upon 
his  arm. 

When  he  spoke  to  her,  her  answers  were  vague, 
her  words  almost  incoherent.  "Take  me  away, 
Robert,"  she  whispered,  "I  am  faint." 

He  led  her  quietly  from  the  floor  and  assisted 
her  up  a  flight  of  stairs  to  his  mother's  apart 
ment.  There  he  helped  her  to  lie  down  on  a 
couch.  Annie  was  hurriedly  summoned.  A  sec- 

381  ' 


Robert  Kimberly 

ond  maid  was  sent  in  haste  for  Doctor  Hamilton 
and  Dolly. 

Alice  could  no  longer  answer  Kimberly's  ques 
tions  as  he  knelt.  She  lay  still  with  her  eyes 
closed.  Her  respiration  was  hardly  perceptible 
and  her  hands  had  grown  cold.  It  was  only 
when  Kimberly  anxiously  kissed  her  that  a  faint 
smile  overspread  her  tired  face.  In  another  mo 
ment  she  was  unconscious. 


382 


CHAPTER  XL 

WHEN  Hamilton  hastily  entered  the  room, 
Annie,  frightened  and  helpless,  knelt  be 
side  her  mistress,  chafing  her  hands.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  couch  Kimberly,  greatly  dis 
turbed,  looked  up  with  relief. 

Taking  a  chair  at  her  side,  the  doctor  lifted 
Alice's  arm,  took  her  pulse  and  sat  for  some  time  in 
silence  watching  her  faint  and  irregular  respiration. 

He  turned  after  a  moment  to  Kimberly  to  learn 
the  slight  details  of  the  attack,  and  listening,  re 
tracted  the  lids  of  Alice's  eyes  and  examined  the 
pupils.  Reflecting  again  in  silence,  he  turned  her 
head  gently  from  side  to  side  and  afterward  lifted 
her  arms  one  after  the  other  to  let  them  fall  back 
beside  her  on  the  couch. 

Even  these  slight  efforts  to  obtain  some  knowl 
edge  of  Alice's  condition  seemed  to  Kimberly 
disquieting  and  filled  him  with  apprehension. 
The  doctor  turned  to  Annie.  "Has  your  mis 
tress  ever  had  an  experience  like  this  before, 
Annie?" 

"No,  doctor,  never.  She  has  never  been  in 
this  way  before." 

383 


Robert  Kimberly 

Imogene  came  hurrying  upstairs  with  Dolly  to 
learn  of  Alice's  condition.  They  looked  upon  her 
unconsciousness  with  fear  and  asked  whispered 
questions  that  intensified  Kimberly's  uneasiness. 

"Do  you  think  we  could  take  her  home,  doc 
tor?"  asked  Annie,  timidly. 

The  doctor  paused.  "I  don't  think  we  will 
try  it  to-night,  Annie.  It  is  quite  possible  for  her 
to  remain  here,  isn't  it?"  he  asked,  looking  at 
Dolly  and  Kimberly. 

"Certainly,"  returned  Dolly.  "I  will  stay. 
Alice  can  have  these  rooms  and  I  will  take  the 
blue  rooms  connecting." 

"Then  put  your  mistress  to  bed  at  once,"  said 
Hamilton  to  Annie. 

"And  telephone  home,  Annie,"  suggested  Dolly, 
"for  whatever  you  need.  I  will  see  the  house 
keeper  right  away  about  the  linen." 

Kimberly  listened  to  the  concise  directions  of 
the  doctor  for  immediate  measures  of  relief  and 
followed  him  mechanically  into  the  hall.  Only 
one  thought  came  out  of  the  strange  confusion — 
Alice  was  at  least  under  his  roof  and  in  his  mother's 
room. 

When  he  returned  with  the  doctor  the  lights 
were  low  and  Alice  lay  with  her  head  pillowed 
on  her  loosened  hair.  The  maid  and  Dolly  had 
hastened  away  to  complete  their  arrangements 

384 


Robert  Kimberly 

for  the  emergency  and  for  a  few  moments  the 
two  men  were  alone  with  their  charge. 

"Doctor,  what  do  you  make  of  this  ?"  demanded 
Kimberly. 

Hamilton,  without  taking  his  eyes  from  the  sick ' 
woman,  answered  thoughtfully:   "I  can  hardly  tell 
until  I  get  at  something  of  the  underlying  cause. 
Bryson  will  be  here  in  a  moment.     We  will  hear 
what  he  has  to  say." 

Doctor  Bryson  appeared  almost  on  the  word. 
Hamilton  made  way  for  him  at  Alice's  side  and 
the  two  conferred  in  an  undertone. 

Bryson  asked  many  questions  of  Hamilton  and 
calling  for  a  candle  retracted  Alice's  eyelids  to 
examine  the  pupils  for  reaction  to  the  light.  The 
two  doctors  lost  not  an  unnecessary  moment  in 
deliberation.  Consulting  rapidly  together,  pow 
erful  restoratives  were  at  once  prepared  and 
administered  through  the  circulation. 

Reduced  to  external  efforts  to  strengthen  the 
vital  functions  the  two  medical  men  wrorked  as 
nurses  and  left  nothing  undone  to  overcome 

o 

the  alarming  situation.  Then  for  an  hour  they 
watched  together,  closely,  the  character  and  fre 
quency  of  Alice's  pulse  and  breathing. 

To  Kimberly  the  conferences  of  the  two  men 
seemed  unending.  Sometimes  they  left  the  room 
and  were  gone  a  long  time.  He  walked  to  a  win- 

385 


Robert  Kimberly 

dow  to  relieve  his  suspense.  Through  the  open 
sash  came  the  suppressed  hum  of  motors  as  the 
cars,  parked  below  the  stables,  moved  up  the  hill 
to  receive  departing  guests  and  made  their  way 
down  the  long,  dark  avenue  to  the  highway. 

On  the  eastern  horizon  a  dull  gray  streak  crossed 
a  mirror  that  lay  in  the  darkness  below.  Kim 
berly  had  to  look  twice  to  convince  himself  that 
the  summer  night  was  already  waning. 

Annie  came  into  the  room  and,  he  was  vaguely 
conscious,  was  aiding  the  doctors  in  a  painstaking 
examination  of  their  patient.  Through  delicacy 
Kimberly  withdrew,  as  they  persistently  ques 
tioned  the  maid  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  the  much- 
needed  information  concerning  her  mistress's  pre 
vious  condition;  for  what  Annie  could  not  supply 
of  this  they  knew  they  must  work  without. 

Plunged  in  the  gloom  of  his  apprehensions,  he 
saw  the  doctors  coming  down  the  hall  toward  him 
and  stopped  them.  "Speak  before  me,"  he  said 
with  an  appeal  that  was  a  command.  "You  both 
know  what  I  have  at  stake/' 

The  three  retired  to  the  library  and  Kimberly 
listened  attentively  to  every  phase  of  the  discus 
sion  between  the  two  master  clinicians  as  they 
laid  their  observations  before  him.  The  coma  was 
undisguisedly  a  serious  matter.  It  seemed  to  them 
already  ingravescent  and,  taken  in  connection  with 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  other  symptoms,  was  even  ominous.  The  two 
men,  without  a  satisfactory  history,  and  without  a 
hope  of  obtaining  one  from  the  only  available 
scource — the  suffering  woman  herself — discussed 
the  case  from  every  side,  only  to  return  unwillingly 
to  the  conclusion  to  which  everything  pointed — 
that  a  cerebral  lesion  underlay  the  attack. 

Their  words  sent  a  chill  to  Kimberly's  heart. 
But  the  lines  of  defence  were  mapped  out  with 
speed  and  precision;  a  third  eminent  man,  an 
authority  on  the  brain,  was  to  be  sent  for  at  once. 
Nurses,  equal  almost  in  themselves  to  good  prac 
titioners,  were  to  be  called  in,  and  finally  Hamil 
ton  and  Bryson  arranged  that  either  one  or  the 
other  should  be  at  the  sick-bed  every  instant  to 
catch  a  possible  moment  of  consciousness. 

Hamilton  himself  returned  to  his  patient. 
Bryson  at  the  telephone  took  up  the  matter  of 
summoning  aid  from  town,  and  when  he  had  done 
threw  himself  down  for  a  few  hours'  sleep.  Kim 
berly  followed  Hamilton  and  returned  to  Alice's 
side.  He  saw  as  he  bent  over  her  how  the  ex 
pression  of  her  face  had  changed.  It  was  drawn 
with  a  profound  suffering.  Kimberly  sitting 
noiselessly  down  took  her  hand,  waiting  to  be  the 
first  to  greet  her  when  she  should  open  her  eyes. 

All  Second  Lake  knew  within  a  day  or  two 
of  Alice's  critical  illness.  The  third  doctor  had 

337 


Robert  Kimberly 

come  in  the  morning  and  he  remained  for  several 
days. 

Hamilton  questioned  Annie  repeatedly  during 
the  period  of  consultations.  "Try  to  think,  An 
nie/'  he  said  once,  "has  your  mistress  never 
at  any  time  complained  of  her  head  ?" 

"Indeed,  sir,  I  cannot  remember.  She  never 
complained  about  herself  at  all.  Stop,  sir,  she 
did  last  summer,  too — what  am  I  thinking  of?  I 
am  so  confused.  She  had  a  fall  one  night,  sir.  I 
found  her  in  her  dressing-room  unconscious.  Oh, 
she  was  very  sick  that  night.  She  told  me  that 
she  had  fallen  and  her  head  had  struck  the  table 
— the  back  of  her  head.  For  days  she  suffered 
terribly.  Could  it  have  been  that,  do  you  think  ?" 

"Put  your  hand  to  the  place  on  your  head 
where  she  complained  the  pain  was." 

"Flow  did  she  happen,"  Hamilton  continued, 
when  Annie  had  indicated  the  region,  "to  fall 
backward  in  her  own  room,  Annie?" 

"She  never  told  me,  doctor.  I  asked  her  but 
I  can't  remember  what  she  said.  It  was  the  night 
before  Mr.  MacBirney  left  Cedar  Lodge." 

The  doctors  spent  fruitless  days  in  their  efforts 
to  overcome  the  unconsciousness.  There  was  no 
longer  any  uncertainty  as  to  the  seat  of  the  trouble. 
It  lay  in  the  brain  itself  and  defied  every  attempt 
to  relieve  it.  Even  a  momentary  interval  of  rea 
son  was  denied  to  the  dumb  sufferer. 

388 


Robert  Kimberly 

Kimberly,  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day,  had 
summoned  his  medical  advisers  to  his  own  room 
and  asked  the  result  of  their  consultation.  The 
frail  and  eminent  man  whom  Hamilton  and  Bry- 
son  had  brought  from  town  told  Kimberly  the 
story.  He  could  grasp  only  the  salient  points  of 
what  the  specialist  said :  That  in  a  coma  such  as 
they  faced  it  was  the  diagnosis  of  the  underlying 
conditions  that  was  always  important.  That  this 
was  often  difficult;  sometimes,  as  now,  impossible. 
That  at  times  they  encountered,  as  now,  a  case  so 
obscure  as  to  defy  the  resources  of  clinical  medicine. 
Kimberly  asked  them  their  judgment  as  to  the 
issue;  the  prognosis,  they  could  only  tell  him, 
was  doubtful,  depending  wholly  upon  the  gravity 
of  the  apoplectic  injury. 

The  Kimberly  family  rose  to  the  emergency. 
Aware  of  the  crisis  that  had  come,  through  Alice, 
into  Robert's  life,  Imogene  and  Dolly,  on  hand 
day  and  night,  were  mother  and  sister  to  him 
and  to  her.  Nowhere  in  the  situation  was  there 
any  failure  or  weakening  of  support. 

Hamilton,  undismayed  in  the  face  of  the  physical 
catastrophe  he  had  been  called  upon  so  unex 
pectedly  to  retrieve,  and  painfully  aware  of  what 
the  issue  meant  to  his  near  and  dear  friend, 
never  for  an  instant  relaxed  his  efforts. 

Seconded  by  his  nurses,  reinforced  by  his 
389  . 


Robert  Kimberly 

counsel  and  strengthened  by  Bryson's  close  co 
operation,  Hamilton  faced  the  discouragement 
steadily,  knowing  only  too  well  that  the  responsi 
bility  must  rest,  in  the  end,  on  him  alone. 

Absorbed,  vigilant,  tireless — pouring  the  re 
serve  energy  of  years  into  the  sustained  struggle 
of  the  sleepless  days  and  nights — he  strove  with 
every  resource  of  his  skill  and  watched  unremit 
tingly  for  an  instant's  abatement  of  the  deadly 
lethargy  that  was  crushing  the  vitality  of  the  deli 
cate  woman  before  him. 

Kimberly,  following  the  slightest  details  of  the 
sick-room  hours,  spent  the  day  and  the  night  at  the 
bedside  or  in  pacing  the  long  hall.  If  he  slept 
it  was  for  an  hour  and  after  leaving  orders  to  sum 
mon  him  instantly  if  Alice  woke.  They  who  cared 
for  her  knew  what  he  meant  by  "waking."  They 
knew  how  long  and  mutely,  sometimes  in  the  day, 
sometimes  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  he  watched 
her  face  for  one  returning  instant  of  reason. 

They  knew  how  when  hope  burned  low  in  every 
other  eye  it  shone  always  steadily  in  his.  The  ris 
ing  of  the  sun  and  its  setting  meant  to  him  only 
another  day  of  hope,  another  night  of  hope  for  her; 
every  concern  had  passed  from  him  except  that 
which  was  centered  in  the  fight  for  her  life. 

Considerate  as  he  was  to  those  about  him  they 
feared  him,  and  his  instinctive  authority  made  it- 

390 


Robert  Kimberly 

self  felt  more  keenly  in  his  silence  than  in  his 
words.  The  heavy  features,  the  stubborn  brow, 
the  slow,  steady  look  became  intensified  in  the 
long,  taciturn  vigil.  Every  day  Dolly  walked 
with  him  and  talked  with  him.  She  made  a 
bond  between  him  and  the  world;  but  she  saw 
how  little  the  world  meant  when  danger  came 
between  him  and  the  woman  he  loved. 

One  evening  the  nurses  told  him  that  Alice  was 
better.  They  hoped  for  a  return  of  consciousness 
and  he  sat  all  night  waiting  for  the  precious  in 
stant.  The  next  day  while  he  slept,  wearied  and 
heartsick,  Alice  sank.  For  ten  minutes  those  about 
her  endured  a  breathless,  ageing  suspense  that 
sapped  their  energy  and  strength,  until  it  was 
known  that  the  doctor  had  won  the  fight  and  the 
weary  heart  had  returned  to  its  faint  and  labored 
beat.  They  told  Kimberly  nothing  of  it.  When 
he  awoke  he  still  thought  she  was  better. 

When  he  came  into  the  room  he  was  so  hopeful 
that  he  bent  over  her  and  fondly  called  her  name. 
To  his  consternation  and  delight  her  eyes  opened 
at  the  sound  of  his  voice;  it  seemed  as  if  she  were 
about  to  speak.  Then  her  eyes  closed  again  and 
she  lay  still.  The  incident  electrified  him  and  he 
spoke  hopefully  of  it  for  hours.  At  midnight  he 
sent  Hamilton  away,  saying  he  himself  was  fresh 
and  would  be  on  duty  with  the  nurse  until  daylight. 

391 


Robert  Kimberly 

The  air  was  sultry.  Toward  morning  a  thun 
der-storm  broke  violently.  Kimberly  walked  out 
into  the  hall  to  throw  the  belvedere  doors  open  to 
the  fresh  air.  As  he  turned  to  go  back,  his  heart 
stopped  beating.  In  the  gloom  of  the  darkened 
gallery  a  slender,  white  figure  came  from  the  open 
door  of  the  sick-room  and  Kimberly  saw  Alice, 
with  outstretched  hands,  walking  uncertainly  tow 
ard  him.  He  stood  quite  still  and  taking  her  hands 
gently  as  they  touched  his  own  he  murmured  her 
name. 

"Alice!  What  is  it,  darling?"  She  opened  her 
eyes.  Their  vacancy  pierced  his  heart. 

"Baby  is  crying,"  she  faltered;  "I  hear  my 
baby.  Walter."  Her  hands  groped  pitifully 
within  his  own.  "Walter!  Let  me  go  to  her!" 

She  tried  to  go  on  but  Kimberly  restrained 
and  held  her  for  a  moment  trembling  in  his  arms. 
"Come  with  me,"  he  said,  leading  her  slowly  back 
to  her  pillow.  "Let  us  go  to  her  together." 


392 


CHAPTER  XLI 

WHEN  the  sun  burst  upon  The  Towers  in 
the  freshness  of  the  morning,  Kimberly 's 
eyes  wore  another  expression.  The  pleading  of 
her  words  still  rang  in  his  ears.  The  tears  in  her 
voice  had  cost  him  his  courage.  Before  another 
night  fell  they  told  him  but  a  slender  hope  re 
mained.  He  seemed  already  to  have  realized  it. 

After  the  doctors  had  spoken  and  all  knew, 
Annie  crept  into  Kimberly's  room.  His  head  was 
bowed  on  the  table  between  his  arms.  With  her 
little  wet  handkerchief  and  her  worn  beads  crushed 
in  her  hands,  she  ventured  to  his  side.  Her  sobs 
aroused  him.  "What  is  it,  Annie?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Kimberly;   she  is  so  sick!" 

"Yes,  Annie." 

"Don't  you  think  you  should  call  a  priest  for 
her?" 

"A  priest  ?"  He  opened  his  eyes  as  if  to  collect 
his  thoughts. 

"Oh,  yes,  a  priest,  Mr.  Kimberly." 

"Go  yourself  for  him,  Annie." 

Tears  were  streaming  down  the  maid's  cheeks. 
393 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  held  out  an  ivory  crucifix.  ' '  If  her  eyes  should 
open,  dear  Mr.  Kimberly,  won't  you  give  this  to 
her  ?  It  is  her  own."  Kimberly  took  the  crucifix 
in  silence  and  as  Annie  hurried  away  he  buried 
his  head  again  in  his  arms. 

The  timid  young  clergyman  from  the  village 
responded  within  half  an  hour.  Hamilton  spoke 
kindly  to  him  and  explained  to  him  Alice's  condi 
tion;  for  unless  consciousness  should  return 
Hamilton  knew  that  nothing  could  be  done. 

After  trying  in  vain  to  speak  to  her  the  priest 
asked  leave  to  wait  in  an  adjoining  room.  His 
youthfulness  and  timidity  proved  no  detriment  to 
his  constancy,  for  he  sat  hour  after  hour  relieved 
only  by  Annie's  messages  and  declining  to  give  up. 
In  the  early  morning  finding  there  had  been  no 
change  he  left,  asking  that  he  be  sent  for  if  con 
sciousness  should  return. 

With  a  strength  that  the  doctors  marvelled  at, 
Alice  rallied  after  the  bad  night.  She  so  held  her 
improvement  during  the  day  that  Hamilton  at 
nightfall  felt  she  still  might  live. 

While  the  doctors  and  the  family  were  at  dinner 
Kimberly  was  kneeling  upstairs  beside  Alice. 
She  lay  with  her  eyes  closed,  as  she  had  lain 
the  night  she  was  stricken,  but  breathing  more 
quietly.  The  racking  pain  no  longer  drew  her 
face.  Kimberly  softly  spoke  her  name  and  bent 

394 


Robert  Kimberly 

over  her.  He  kissed  her  parched  lips  tenderly  and 
her  tired  eyes  opened.  A  convulsion  shook  him. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  must  know  him,  but  his  plead 
ing  brought  no  response. 

Then  as  he  looked,  the  light  in  her  eyes  began  to 
fade.  With  a  sudden  fear  he  took  her  in  his  arms 
and  called  to  Annie  on  the  other  side  of  the  bed. 
The  nurse  ran  for  Hamilton.  Annie  with  a  sob 
that  seemed  to  pierce  Alice's  stupor  held  up  the 
ivory  crucifix  and  the  eyes  of  her  dying  mistress 
fixed  upon  it. 

Reason  for  an  instant  seemed  to  assert  itself. 
Alice,  her  eyes  bent  upon  the  crucifix,  and  trying 
to  rise,  stretched  out  her  hands.  Kimberly,  trans 
fixed,  supported  her  in  his  arms.  Annie  held  the 
pleading  symbol  nearer  and  Alice  with  a  heart 
rending  little  cry  clutched  it  convulsively  and 
sank  slowly  back. 


395 


CHAPTER  XLII 

SHE  died  in  his  arms.  In  the  stillness  they 
heard  her  name  again  and  again  softly  spoken, 
as  if  he  still  would  summon  her  from  the  apathy 
of  death.  They  saw  him,  in  their  sobbing,  wait 
undiscouraged  for  his  answer  from  the  lips  that 
never  would  answer  again. 

If  he  had  claimed  her  in  her  life  he  claimed 
her  doubly  in  her  death;  now,  at  least,  she  was 
altogether  his.  He  laid  her  tenderly  upon  the 
pillow  and  covering  her  hands,  still  clasping  the 
crucifix,  in  his  own  hands  he  knelt  with  his  face 
buried  in  the  counterpane. 

Day  was  breaking  when  he  kissed  her  and  rose 
to  his  feet.  When  Dolly  went  to  him  in  the  morn 
ing  to  learn  his  wishes  she  found  him  in  his  room. 
Alice  was  to  lie,  he  said,  with  the  Kimberlys  on  the 
hill,  in  the  plot  reserved  for  him.  His  sister 
assented  tearfully.  As  to  the  funeral,  he  asked 
Dolly  to  confer  with  the  village  priest.  He  directed 
that  only  Annie  and  her  own  women  should  make 
Alice  ready  for  the  burial  and  forbade  that  any 
stranger's  hand  should  touch  his  dead. 

39° 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  lay  in  the  sunshine,  on  her  pillow,  after 
Annie  had  dressed  her  hair,  as  if  breathing. 
Kimberly  went  in  when  Annie  came  for  him.  He 
saw  how  the  touch  of  the  maid's  loving  hands  had 
made  for  her  dead  mistress  a  counterfeit  of  sleep; 
how  the  calm  of  the  great  sleep  had  already  come 
upon  her,  and  how  death,  remembering  the  suffer 
ing  of  her  womanhood,  had  restored  to  her  face  its 
girlish  beauty.  Hamilton,  who  was  with  him, 
followed  him  into  the  room.  Kimberly  broke  the 
silence. 

"What  is  First  Communion,  Hamilton?"  he 
asked. 

Hamilton  shook  his  head. 

"I  think,"  Kimberly  said,  pausing,  "it  must  be 
the  expression  upon  her  face  now." 

During  the  day  he  hardly  spoke.  Much  of  the 
time  he  walked  in  the  hall  or  upon  the  belvedere 
and  his  silence  was  respected.  Those  of  his 
household  asked  one  another  in  turn  to  talk  with 
him.  But  even  his  kindness  repelled  communi 
cation. 

In  the  early  morning  when  the  white  couch  had 
been  placed  to  receive  her  for  the  grave  he  re 
turned  to  the  room  with  Dolly  and  they  stood  be 
side  Alice  together. 

"This  is  my  wedding  day,  Dolly.  Did  you 
remember  it?" 

397 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Robert!" 

"I  tried  for  once  to  do  better;  to  treat  Alice  as 
a  woman  should  be  treated.  This  is  my  reward — 
my  wedding  day." 

He  lifted  her  in  his  arms  like  a  child  and  as  he 
laid  her  in  her  coffin  looked  at  her  stonily.  "My 
bride!  My  Alice!" 

Dolly  burst  into  tears.  The  harshness  of  his 
despair  gave  way  as  he  bent  over  her  for  the  last 
time  and  when  he  spoke  again  the  tenderness  of 
his  voice  came  back.  "My  darling!  With  you  I 
bury  every  earthly  hope;  for  I  take  God  to  witness, 
in  you  I  have  had  all  my  earthly  joy!"  He 
walked  away  and  never  saw  her  face  again. 

The  unintelligible  service  in  the  church  did  not 
rouse  him  from  his  torpor  and  he  was  only  after 
a  long  time  aware  of  a  strange  presence  on  the 
altar.  Just  at  the  last  he  looked  up  into  the  sanc 
tuary.  Little  clouds  of  incense  rising  from  a 
swinging  thurible  framed  for  an  instant  the  face 
of  a  priest  and  Kimberly  saw  it  was  the  archbishop. 

The  prelate  stood  before  the  tabernacle  facing 
the  little  church  filled  with  people.  But  his  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  catafalque  and  his  lips  were 
moving  in  prayer.  Kimberly  watched  with  a 
strange  interest  the  slender,  white  hand  rise  in 
a  benediction  over  the  dead.  He  knew  it  was 
the  last  blessing  of  her  whom  he  had  loved. 

393 


Robert  Kimberly 

Dolly  had  dreaded  the  scene  at  the  grave  but 
there  was  no  scene.  Nor  could  Kimberly  ever 
recollect  more  than  the  mournful  trees,  the  green 
turf,  and  the  slow  sinking  of  a  flowered  pall  into 
the  earth.  And  at  the  end  he  heard  only  the 
words  of  the  archbishop,  begging  that  they  who 
remained  might,  with  her,  be  one  day  received 
from  the  emptiness  of  this  life  into  one  that  is  both 
better  and  lasting. 


399 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

IN  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  they  had 
buried  Alice,  and  the  family  were  all  at  The 
Towers,  Dolly,  after  dinner,  asked  Doctor  Hamil 
ton  to  walk  with  her.  Robert  Kimberly  had  dined 
upstairs  and  Hamilton  upon  leaving  Dolly  went 
up  to  Kimberly's  rooms. 

The  library  door  was  closed.  Hamilton,  pick 
ing  up  a  book  in  an  adjoining  room,  made  a  place 
under  the  lamp  and  sat  down  to  read.  It  was  late 
when  Kimberly  opened  the  closed  door.  "Do  you 
want  to  see  me,  doctor?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"Not  particularly.     I  am  not  sleepy." 

Kimberly  sat  down  in  the  corner  of  a  daven 
port.  "Nor  am  I,  doctor.  Nor  am  I  talkative — 
you  understand,  I  know." 

"I  have  been  reading  this  pretty  little  French 
story."  Hamilton  had  the  book  in  his  hand. 
"Mrs.  MacBirney  gave  it  to  you.  I  have  been 
thinking  how  like  her  it  seems — the  story  itself — 
elevated,  delicate,  refined 

"It  happens  to  be  the  only  book  she  ever  gave 

400 


me." 


Robert  Kimberly 

Hamilton  looked  again  at  the  inscription  on  the 
fly-leaf,  and  read  in  Alice's  rapid,  nervous  hand: 

"From  Alice,  To  Robert." 

"What  slight  chances/'  the  doctor  went  on, 
"contribute  sometimes  to  our  treasures.  You  will 
always  prize  this.  And  to  have  known  and  loved 
such  a  woman — to  have  been  loved  by  her — so 
much  does  not  come  into  every  man's  life." 

Kimberly  was  silent.  But  Hamilton  had  come 
to  talk,  and  disregarding  the  steady  eyes  bent  sus- 
pectingly  upon  him  he  pursued  his  thought.  "To 
my  mind,  to  have  known  the  love  of  one  woman 
is  the  highest  possible  privilege  that  can  come 
to  a  man.  And  this  is  the  thought  I  find  in  this 
book.  It  is  that  which  pleases  me.  What  sur 
prises  me  in  it  is  the  light,  cynical  view  that  the 
man  takes  of  the  responsibility  of  life  itself." 

"All  sensualists  are  cynical." 

"But  how  can  a  man  that  has  loved,  or  treasures, 
as  this  man  professes  to  treasure,  the  memory  of 
a  gifted  woman  remain  a  sensualist?" 

Kimberly  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Men  are 
born  sensualists.  No  one  need  apologize  for  being 
a  sensualist;  a  man  should  apologize  for  being 
anything  else." 

"But  no  matter  what  you  and  I  are  born,  we 
die  something  other." 

"You  mean,  we  progress.  Perhaps  so.  But 
401 


Robert  Kimberly 

that  we  progress  to  any  more  of  respect  for  man  or 
for  life,  I  have  yet  to  learn.  We  progress  from  a 
moment  of  innocence  to  an  hour  of  vanity,  and 
from  an  hour  of  vanity  to  an  eternity  of  ashes." 

''You  are  quoting  from  the  book." 

"It  is  true." 

"She  did  not  believe  it  true.  She  died  clinging 
to  a  crucifix." 

Kimberly  shrank  under  the  surgeon's  blade. 

"A  memory  is  not  vanity,"  persisted  Hamilton. 
"And  the  day  some  time  comes  when  it  embodies 
all  the  claim  that  life  has  upon  us;  but  it  is  none 
the  less  a  valid  claim.  In  this  case,"  the  surgeon 
held  up  the  book,  "Italy  and  work  proved  such  a 
claim." 

"My  work  would  be  merely  more  money-getting. 
I  am  sickened  of  all  money-getting.  And  my  Italy 
lies  to-night — up  there."  His  eyes  rolled  toward 
the  distant  hill.  "I  wish  I  were  there  with  her." 

"But  between  the  wishing  and  the  reality, 
Robert — you  surely  would  not  hasten  the  moment 
yourself." 

Kimberly  made  no  answer. 

"You  must  think  of  Alice — what  would  she 
wish  you  to  do  ?  Promise  me,"  Hamilton,  rising, 
laid  his  hand  on  Kimberly's  shoulder,  "that  to 
night  you  will  not  think  of  yourself  alone.  -Suicide 
is  the  supreme  selfishness — remember  your  own 

402 


Robert  Kimberly 

words.  There  was  nothing  of  selfishness  in  her. 
Tell  me,  that  for  to-night,  you  will  think  of  her." 

"That  will  not  be  hard  to  do.  You  are  very 
kind.  Good-night." 

In  the  morning  Kimberly  sent  for  Nelson  and 
later  for  Charles.  It  was  to  discuss  details  con 
cerning  their  business,  which  Robert,  conferring 
with  his  brother,  told  him  frankly  he  must  now 
prepare  to  take  up  more  actively.  Charles,  uneasy, 
waited  until  they  had  conferred  some  time  and 
then  bluntly  asked  the  reason  for  it. 

Kimberly  gave  no  explanation  beyond  what  he 
had  already  given  to  Nelson,  that  he  meant  to 
take  a  little  rest.  The  two  worked  until  Charles, 
though  Robert  \vas  quite  fresh,  was  used  up.  He 
rose  and  going  to  an  open  window  looked  out  on 
the  lake,  saying  that  he  did  not  want  to  work 
any  longer. 

The  brothers  were  so  nearly  of  an  age  that  there 
seemed  no  difference  in  years  between  them. 
Robert  had  always  done  the  work;  he  liked  to  do 
it  and  always  had  done  it.  To  feel  that  he  was 
now  putting  it  off,  appalled  Charles,  and  he  hid 
his  own  depression  only  because  he  saw  the  men 
tal  strain  reflected  in  Robert's  drawn  features. 

Charles,  although  resolutely  leaving  the  table 
and  every  paper  on  it,  looked  loyally  back  after 
a  moment  to  his  brother.  "It's  mighty  good  of 

403 


Robert  Kimberly 

you,  Bob,"  he  said  slowly,  "to  explain  these  things 
all  over  again  to  me.  I  ought  to  know  them — I'm 
ashamed  that  I  don't.  But,  somehow,  you  always 
took  the  load  and  I  like  a  brute  always  let  you 
take  it.  Then  you  are  a  lot  brainier  than  I  am." 

Robert  cut  him  off.  "That  simply  is  not  true, 
Charlie.  In  matter  of  fact,  that  man  has  the  most 
brains  who  achieves  happiness.  And  you  have 
been  supremely  happy." 

"While  you  have  done  the  work!" 

"Why  not?  What  else  have  I  been  good  for? 
If  I  could  let  you  live — if  even  one  of  us  could 
live — why  shouldn't  I  ?" 

The  elder  brother  turned  impulsively.  "Why  ? 
Because  you  have  the  right  to  live,  too.  Because 
sunshine  and  bright  skies  are  as  much  for  you  as 
they  are  for  me." 

They  were  standing  at  the  window  together. 
Robert  heard  the  feeling  in  the  words. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "I  know  the  world  is  full 
of  sunshine,  and  flowers  are  always  fresh  and  life 
is  always  young  and  new  hands  are  always  caress 
ing.  This  I  well  know,  and  I  do  not  complain. 
The  bride  and  the  future  are  always  new.  But 
Charlie,"  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  brother's  shoul 
der,  "we  can't  all  play  the  game  of  life  with  the 
same  counters;  some  play  white  but  some  must 
play  black.  It's  the  white  for  you,  the  black  for 

404 


Robert  Kimberly 

me.  The  sun  for  you,  the  shadow  for  me.  Don't 
speak;  I  know,  I  have  chosen  it;  I  know  it  is  my 
fault.  I  know  the  opportunities  wasted.  I  might 
have  had  success,  I  asked  for  failure.  But  it  all 
comes  back  to  the  same  thing — some  play  the 
white,  some  the  black." 


405 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

A  SECOND  shock  within  a  week  at  The  Tow 
ers  found  Kimberly  still  dazed.  In  the  con 
fusion  of  the  household  Uncle  John  failed  one 
morning  to  answer  Francis's  greeting.  No  word 
of  complaint  had  came  from  him.  He  lay  as  he 
had  gone  to  sleep. 

Hamilton  stood  in  the  room  a  moment  with 
Kimberly  beside  his  dead  uncle. 

"He  was  an  extraordinary  man,  Robert,"  said 
the  surgeon,  breaking  the  silence  at  last.  "A  great 


man.' 


"He  asked  no  compromise  with  the  inevitable," 
responded  Kimberly,  looking  at  the  stern  forehead 
and  the  cruel  mouth.  "I  don't  know" — he  added, 
turning  mechanically  away,  "  perhaps,  there  is 


none." 


After  the  funeral  Dolly  urged  Robert  to  take 
Hamilton  to  sea  and  the  two  men  spent  a  week  to 
gether  on  the  yacht.  Between  them  there  existed  a 
community  of  mental  interest  and  material  achieve 
ment  as  well  as  a  temperamental  attraction.  Ham 
ilton  was  never  the  echo  of  any  expression  of 
thought  that  he  disagreed  with.  Yet  he  was  acute 

406 


Robert  Kimberly 

enough  to  realize  that  Kimberly's  mind  worked 
more  deeply  than  his  own  and  was  by  this  strongly 
drawn  to  him. 

Moreover,  to  his  attractive  independence  Ham 
ilton  united  a  tenderness  and  tact  developed  by 
long  work  among  the  suffering — and  the  suffering, 
like  children,  know  their  friends.  Kimberly,  while 
his  wound  was  still  bleeding,  could  talk  to  Ham 
ilton  more  freely  than  to  any  one  else. 

The  day  after  their  return  to  The  Towers  the 
two  men  were  riding  together  in  the  deep  woods 
over  toward  the  Sound  when  Kimberly  spoke  for 
the  first  time  freely  of  Alice.  "You  know,"  he 
said  to  Hamilton,  "something  of  the  craving  of  a 
boy's  imagination.  When  we  are  young  we  dream 
of  angels — and  we  wake  to  clay.  The  imagina 
tion  of  childhood  sets  no  bounds  to  its  demands, 
and  poor  reality,  forced  to  deliver,  is  left  bankrupt. 
From  my  earliest  consciousness  my  dreams  were 
of  a  little  girl  and  I  loved  and  hungered  for  her. 
She  was  last  in  my  sleeping  and  first  in  my  wak 
ing  thoughts. 

"It  grew  in  me,  and  with  me,  this  pictured  com 
panion  of  my  life.  It  was  my  childish  happiness. 
Then  the  time  came  when  she  left  me  and  I  could 
not  call  her  back.  An  old  teacher  rebuked  me 
once.  'You  think,'  said  he,  'that  innocence  is 
nothing;  wait  till  you  have  lost  it.' 

407 


Robert  Kimberly 

"I  believed  at  last,  as  year  after  year  slipped 
away,  that  I  had  created  a  being  of  fancy  too 
lovely  to  be  real.  I  never  found  her — in  all  the 
women  I  have  ever  known  I  never  found  her 
until  one  night  I  saw  Alice  MacBirney.  Dolly 
asked  me  that  night  if  I  had  seen  a  ghost.  She 
was  my  dream  come  true.  Think  of  what  it 
means  to  live  to  a  reality  that  can  surpass  the 
imagination — Alice  was  that  to  me. 

"To  be  possessed  of  perfect  grace;  that  alone 
means  so  much — and  grace  was  but  one  of  her 
natural  charms.  I  thought  I  knew  how  to  love 
such  a  woman.  It  was  all  so  new  to  her — our 
life  here;  she  was  like  a  child.  I  thought  rny 
love  would  lift  me  up  to  her.  I  know,  too  late, 
it  dragged  her  down  to  me." 

"You  are  too  harsh.    You  did  what  you  believed 

nght." 

"Right?"  echoed  Kimberly  scornfully.  ."What 
is  right  ?  Who  knows  or  cares  ?  We  do  what  we 
please — who  does  right?9' 

They  turned  their  horses  into  a  bridle-path 
toward  the  village  and  Kimberly  continued  to 
speak.  "Sometimes  I  have  thought,  what  possi 
bilities  would  lie  in  moulding  a  child  to  your  own 
ideas  of  womanhood.  It  must  be  pleasing  to 
contemplate  a  girl  budding  into  such  a  flower  as 
you  have  trained  her  to  be. 

408 


Robert  Kimberly 

"But  if  this  be  pleasing,  think  what  it  is  to 
find  such  a  girl  already  in  the  flower  of  her 
womanhood;  to  find  in  her  eyes  the  light  that 
moves  everything  best  within  you;  to  read  in 
them  the  answer  to  every  question  that  springs 
from  your  heart.  This  is  to  realize  the  most 
powerful  of  all  emotions — the  love  of  man  for 


woman." 


The  horses  stopped  on  the  divide  overlooking 
the  lakes  and  the  sea.  To  the  left,  the  village  lay 
at  their  feet,  and  beyond,  the  red  roofs  of  the 
Institute  clustered  among  clumps  of  green  trees. 
The  sight  of  the  Institute  brought  to  Kimberly's 
mind  Brother  Francis,  who,  released  from  his 
charge  at  The  Towers,  had  returned  to  it. 

He  had  for  a  time  wholly  forgotten  him.  He 
reflected  now  that  after  Hamilton's  departure  the 
companionship  of  Francis  might  help  to  relieve  his 
insupportable  loneliness.  The  men  rode  together 
past  the  village  and  parted  w^hen  they  reached 
the  lake,  Hamilton  returning  to  The  Towers  and 
Kimberly  riding  south  to  the  Institute  to  take,  if 
possible,  Brother  Francis  home  with  him.  He 
expected  some  objection,  but  W7as  prepared  to 
overcome  it  as  he  dismounted  at  the  door  of  the 
infirmary  and  rang.  A  tall,  shock-haired  brother 
answered. 

"I  have  come  to  see  Brother  Francis." 
409 


Robert  Kimberly 

uYou  mean  Brother  Francis,  who  was  at  The 
Towers  ?  He  has  gone,  I  am  sorry  to  say." 

"Where  has  he  gone?" 

"  Brother  Francis  has  gone  to  the  leper  mission 
at  Molokai." 

Kimberly  stared  at  the  man:  "Molokai!  Francis 
gone  to  Molokai  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

A  wave  of  amazement  darkening  Kimberly's 
features  startled  the  red-haired  brother.  "Who 

r 

sent  him?"  demanded  Kimberly  angrily.  "Why 
was  I  not  notified  ?  What  kind  of  management 
is  this?  Where  is  your  Superior?" 

"  Brother  Ambrose  is  ill.  I,  Mr.  Kimberly,  am 
Brother  Edgar.  No  one  sent  Brother  Francis. 
Surely  you  must  know,  for  years  he  has  wished  to 
go  to  the  Molokai  Mission  ?  When  he  was  once 
more  free  he  renewed  his  petition.  The  day  after 
it  was  granted  he  left  to  catch  the  steamer.  He 
went  to  The  Towers  to  find  you  to  say  good-by. 
They  told  him  you  had  gone  to  sea." 

Kimberly  rode  slowly  home.  He  was  unwilling 
to  admit  even  to  himself  how  hateful  what  he 
had  now  heard  was  to  him  and  how  angrily  and 
inexplicably  he  resented  it. 

He  had  purposed  on  the  day  that  he  made  Alice 
his  wife  to  give  Brother  Francis  as  a  foundation  for 
those  higher  schools  that  were  the  poor  Italian's 
dream,  a  sum  of  money  much  larger  than  Francis 

410 


Robert  Kimberly 

had  ever  conceived  of.  It  was  to  have  been  one  of 
those  gifts  the  Kimberlys  delighted  in — of  royal  mu 
nificence,  without  ceremony  and  without  the  slight 
est  previous  intimation;  one  of  those  overwhelm 
ing  surprises  that  gratified  the  Kimberly  pride. 

Because  it  was  to  have  been  in  ready  money 
even  the  securities  had  previously  been  converted, 
and  the  tons  of  gold  lay  with  those  other  useless 
tons  that  were  to  have  been  Alice's  on  the  same 
day — in  the  bank  vaults.  And  of  the  two  who 
were  to  have  been  made  happy  by  them,  one  lay 
in  her  grave  and  the  other  with  his  own  hand  had 
opened  the  door  of  his  living  tomb. 

Kimberly  in  the  weariness  of  living  returned  to 
the  empty  Towers.  Dolly  and  her  husband  had 
gone  home  and  Hamilton  now  returning  to  town 
was  to  dine  with  Charles  Kimberly.  Robert,  wel 
coming  isolation,  went  upstairs  alone. 

His  dinner  was  brought  to  his  room  and  was 
sent  down  again  untasted.  He  locked  his  doors 
and  sat  down  to  think.  The  sounds  about  the 
house  which  at  best  barely  penetrated  the  heavy 
walls  of  his  apartment  died  gradually  away.  A 
clock  within  the  room  chiming  the  hour  annoyed 
him  and  he  stopped  it.  His  thoughts  ran  over 
his  affairs  and  the  affairs  of  his  brother  and  his 
sister  and  partners  and  turned  to  those  in  various 
measure  dependent  upon  his  bounty. 

411 


Robert  Kimberly 

His  sense  of  justice,  never  wholly  obscured, 
because  rooted  in  his  exorbitant  pride,  was  keenly 
alive  in  this  hour  of  silent  reckoning.  No  in 
justice,  however  slight,  must  be  left  that  could  be 
urged  against  his  memory,  and  none,  he  believed, 
could  now  thus  be  urged.  If  there  were  a  shock 
on  the  exchanges  at  the  news  of  his  death,  if  the 
stocks  of  his  companies  should  be  raided,  no 
harm  could  come  to  the  companies  themselves. 
The  antidote  to  all  uneasiness  lay  in  the  unneces 
sarily  large  cash  balances,  rooted  likewise  in  the 
Kimberly  pride,  that  he  kept  always  in  hand  for 
the  unexpected. 

His  servants,  to  the  least,  had  been  remembered 
and  he  was  going  over  his  thought  of  them  when, 
with  a  pang,  he  reflected  that  he  had  completely 
forgotten  the  maid,  Annie.  It  was  a  humiliation 
to  think  that  of  all  minor  things  this  could  hap 
pen — that  the  faithful  girl  who  had  been  closer 
than  all  others  to  her  who  was  dearest  to  him 
could  have  been  neglected.  However,  this  could 
be  trusted  to  a  letter  to  his  brother,  and  going  to 
a  table  he  wrote  a  memorandum  of  the  provisions 
he  wished  made  for  Annie. 

Brother  Francis  and  his  years  of  servitude  came 
to  his  mind.  Was  there  any  injustice  to  this  man 
in  leaving  undone  what  he  had  fully  intended  to 
do  in  providing  for  the  new  school  ?  He  thought 

412 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  subject  over  long  and  loosely.  What  would 
Francis  say  when  he  heard  ?  Could  he,  stricken 
sometime  with  a  revolting  disease,  ever  think  of 
Kimberly  as  unjust? 

The  old  fancy  of  Francis  in  heaven  and  Dives 
begging  for  a  drop  of  water  returned.  But  the 
thought  of  lying  for  an  eternity  in  hell  without  a 
drop  of  water  was  more  tolerable  than  the  thought 
of  this  faithful  Lazarus'  accusing  finger  pointing  to 
a  tortured  Dives  who  had  been  in  the  least  matter 
unjust.  If  there  were  a  hereafter,  pride  had  Some 
thing  at  stake  in  this,  too. 

And  thus  the  thought  he  most  hated  obtruded 
itself  unbidden — was  there  a  hereafter  ? 

Alice  rose  before  him.  He  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands.  Could  this  woman,  the  very  thought  of 
whom  he  revered  and  loved  more  than  life  itself— 
could  she  now  be  mere  dissolving  clay — or  did 
she  live  ?  Was  it  but  breathing  clay  that  once  had 
called  into  life  every  good  impulse  in  his  nature  ? 

He  rose  and  found  himself  before  his  mother's 
picture.  How  completely  he  had  forgotten  his 
mother,  whose  agony  had  given  him  life!  He  looked 
long  and  tenderly  into  her  eyes.  When  he  turned 
away,  dawn  was  beating  at  the  drawn  shades. 
The  night  was  gone.  Without  even  asking  what 
had  swayed  him  he  put  his  design  away. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

T/'IMBERLY  took  up  the  matters  of  the  new 
JTV  day  heavy  with  thought.  But  he  sent  none 
the  less  immovably  for  Nelson  and  the  troublesome 
codicil  for  the  school  was  put  under  immediate 
way.  He  should  feel  better  for  it,  he  assured  him 
self,  even  in  hell.  And  whether,  he  reflected,  it 
should  produce  any  relief  there  or  not,  it  would 
silence  criticism.  With  his  accustomed  reticence 
he  withheld  from  Nelson  the  name  of  the  bene 
ficiaries  until  the  final  draught  should  be  ready, 
and  in  the  afternoon  rode  out  alone. 

McCrea  and  Cready  Hamilton  came  out  later 
with  the  treasurer.  They  had  brought  a  messenger 
who  carried  balance  sheets,  reports,  and  estimates 
to  be  laid  before  Kimberly.  He  kept  his  partners 
for  dinner  and  talked  with  them  afterward  of  the 
affairs  most  on  their  minds.  He  told  them  he 
would  go  over  the  estimates  that  night  alone  and 
consult  with  them  in  the  morning.  The  type 
written  sheets  were  spread  with  some  necessary 
explanations  on  his  table  in  the  library  upstairs 
and  after  his  usual  directions  for  their  comfort 
for  the  night  he  excused  his  associates. 

414 


Robert  Kimberly 

He  closed  his  door  when  they  had  gone.  The 
table  lamp  was  burning  and  its  heavy  shade 
shrouded  the  beamed  ceiling  and  the  distant  cor 
ners  of  the  sombre  room.  But  the  darkness  suited 
Kimberly's  mood.  He  seated  himself  in  a  loung 
ing  chair  to  be  alone  with  his  thoughts  and  sat 
motionless  for  an  hour  before  he  moved  to  the 
table  and  the  papers.  The  impressive  totals  of 
figures  before  him  failed  to  evoke  any  possible 
interest;  yet  the  results  were  sufficient  to  justify 
enthusiasm  or,  at  least,  to  excite  a  glow  of  satis 
faction.  He  pushed  the  reports  back  and  as  he 
stared  into  the  gloom  Alice's  deathbed  rose  before 
him.  He  heard  her  sharp  little  cry,  the  only  cry 
during  that  fortnight  of  torture.  He  saw  her  grasp 
the  crucifix  from  Annie's  hand  and  heard  Annie's 
answering  cry,  "Christ,  Son  of  God,  have  mercy!" 

Christ,  Son  of  God!  Suppose  it  were  true? 
The  thought  urged  itself.  He  walked  to  a  win 
dow  and  threw  it  open.  The  lake,  the  copses  and 
fields  lay  flooded  with  moonlight,  but  his  eyes  were 
set  far  beyond  them.  What  if  it  were  true  ?  He 
forced  himself  back  to  the  lamp  and  doggedly  took 
up  the  figures. 

Mechanically  he  went  over  and  over  them.  One 
result  lost  its  meaning  the  moment  he  passed  to 
the  next  and  the  question  that  had  come  upon  him 
would  not  down.  It  kept  knocking  disagreeably 


Robert  Kimberly 

and  he  knew  it  would  not  be  put  away  until  the 
answer  was  wrung  from  him. 

The  night  air  swept  in  cool  from  the  lake  and 
little  chills  crept  over  him.  He  shook  them  off 
and  leaned  forward  on  the  table  supporting  his 
head  with  his  hands.  "It  is  not  true/'  he  cried 
stubbornly.  There  was  a  savage  comfort  in  the 
words.  "It  is  not  true,"  he  muttered.  His 
hands  tightened  and  he  sat  motionless. 

His  head  sank  to  the  table,  and  supporting  it 
on  his  forearm,  with  the  huge  typewritten  sheets 
crumpled  in  his  hands,  he  gave  way  to  the  exhaus 
tion  that  overcame  him.  "It  is  not  true,"  he 
whispered.  "I  never  will  believe  it.  He  is  not  the 
Son  of  God.  There  is  no  God." 

Yet  he  knew  even  as  he  lost  consciousness  that 
the  answer  had  not  yet  come. 


416 


w 


CHAPTER   XLVI 

HEN  Charles  came  over  in  the  morning, 
Robert  made  a  pretence  of  discussing  the 
budget  with  his  associates.  It  was  hardly  more 
than  a  pretence.  Figures  had  palled  upon  him 
and  he  dragged  himself  each  day  to  his  work  by 
force  of  will. 

The  city  offices  he  ceased  to  visit.  Every  mat 
ter  in  which  his  judgment  was  asked  or  upon 
which  his  decision  was  needed  was  brought  to 
The  Towers.  His  horses  were  left  to  fret  in  the 
stables  and  he  walked,  usually  alone,  among  the 
villa  hills. 

Hamilton,  even  when  he  felt  he  could  not  pene 
trate  the  loneliness  of  Kimberly's  moods,  came 
out  regularly  and  Kimberly  made  him  to  know 
he  was  welcome.  "It  isn't  that  I  want  to  be 
alone,"  he  said  one  night  in  apology  to  the  surgeon. 
'The  only  subjects  that  interest  me  condemn  me 
to  loneliness.  Charles  asked  me  to  meet  a  Chicago 
friend  of  his  last  night — and  he  talked  books  to 
me  and  pictures!  How  can  I  talk  pictures  and 
books  ?  McCrea  brought  out  one  of  our  Western 

417 


Robert  Kimberly 

directors  the  other  day,"  as  Kimberly  continued 
his  chin  went  down  to  where  it  sank  when  matters 
seemed  hopeless,  "and  he  talked  railroads!" 

"Go  back  to  your  books,"  urged  Hamilton. 

"Books  are  only  the  sham  battles  of  life." 

"Will  you  forego  the  recreation  of  the  intel 
lect?" 

"Ah!  The  intellect.  We  train  it  to  bring  us 
everything  the  heart  can  wish.  And  when  our 
fairy  responds  with  its  gifts  the  appetite  to  enjoy 
them  is  gone.  Hamilton,  I  am  facing  an  insup 
portable  question — what  shall  I  do  with  myself? 
Shall  I  stop  or  go  on  ?  And  if  I  go  on,  how  ? 
This  is  why  I  am  always  alone." 

"You  overlook  the  simplest  solution.  Take  up 
life  again;  your  difficulties  will  disappear." 

"What  life?  The  one  behind  me?  I  have 
been  over  that  ground.  I  should  start  out  very 
well — with  commendable  resolutions  to  let  a  mem 
ory  guide  me.  And  I  should  end — in  the  old  way. 
I  tell  you  I  will  never  do  it.  There  is  a  short  cut 
to  the  end  of  that  road — one  I  would  rather  take 
at  the  beginning.  I  loathe  the  thought  of  what 
lies  behind  me;  I  know  the  bitterness  of  the  flesh." 
His  hands  were  stretched  upon  the  table  and  he 
clenched  them  slowly  as  he  drew  them  up  with 
his  words,  "I  never  will  embrace  or  endure  it 
again." 

418 


Robert  Kimberly 

"Yet,  for  the  average  man,"  he  went  on,  "only 
two  roads  lie  open — Christianity  or  sensuality— 
and  I  am  just  the  average  man.  I  cannot  calmly 
turn  back  to  what  I  was  before  I  knew  her.  She 
changed  me.  I  am  different.  Christians,  you 
know,"  his  voice  dropped  as  if  he  were  musing, 
"have  a  curious  notion  that  baptism  fixes  an  in 
delible  mark  on  the  soul.  If  that  is  so,  Alice  was 
my  baptism." 

"Then  your  choice  is  already  made,  Robert." 

"Why  do  you  say  that  ?  When  I  choose  I  shall 
no  longer  be  here.  What  I  resent  is  being  forced 
to  choose.  I  hate  to  bow  to  law.  My  life  has 
been  one  long  contempt  for  it.  I  have  set  myself 
outside  every  law  that  ever  interfered  with  my 
desires  or  ambitions.  I  have  scorned  law  and 
ignored  it — and  I  am  punished.  What  can  a 
man  do  against  death  ?" 

"Even  so,  there  is  nothing  appalling  in  Chris 
tianity.  Merely  choose  the  form  best  adapted  to 
your  individual  needs." 

"What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  Fill  myself  with 
sounding  words  and  echoing  phrases  ?  I  am  do 
ing  better  than  that  where  I  am.  There  is  only  one 
essential  form  of  Christianity — you  know  what 
it  is.  I  tell  you  I  never  will  bow  to  a  law  that  is 
not  made  for  every  man,  rich  or  poor,  cultured  or 
crude,  ignorant  or  learned.  I  never  will  take  up 

419 


Robert  Kimberly 

the  husks  of  a  'law  adapted  to  individual  needs. 
That  is  merely  making  my  own  law  over  again, 
and  I  am  leaving  that.  I  am  sick  of  exploiting 
myself.  I  despise  a  law  that  exploits  the  individ 
ual.  I  despise  men  in  religious  thought  that  ex 
ploit  themselves  and  their  own  doctrines.  I  need 
wholly  another  discipline  and  I  shall  never  bring 
myself  to  embrace  it." 

''You  are  closer  to  it  than  you  think.  Yet,  for 
my  part,  I  hate  to  see  you  lose  your  individuality — 
to  let  some  one  else  do  your  thinking  for  you." 

"A  part  of  my  individuality  I  should  be  gainer 
for  losing.  A  part  of  it  I  wish  to  God  some  one 
had  robbed  me  of  long  ago.  But  I  hate  to  see 
you,  Hamilton,  deceive  yourself  with  phrases. 
'Let  some  one  else  do  your  thinking  for  you," 
Kimberly  echoed,  looking  contemptuously  away. 
"If  empty  words  like  that  were  all!" 

"You  are  going  a  good  way,  Robert,"  said  the 
surgeon,  dryly. 

"I  wish  I  might  go  far." 

"Parting  company  with  a  good  many  serious 
minds — not  to  say  brilliant  ones." 

"What  has  their  brilliancy  ever  done  for  me  ? 
I  am  tired  of  this  rubbish  of  writing  and  words. 
Francis  was  worth  libraries.  I  esteem  what  he 
did  with  his  life  more  than  I  do  the  written  words 
of  ten  thousand.  He  fought  the  real  battle." 

420 


Robert  Kimberly 
"Did  he  win?" 

Kimberly's  hand  shot  out.  "If  I  knew!  If  I 
knew,"  he  repeated  doggedly.  And  then  more 
slowly.  "  If  I  knew — I  would  follow  him." 


421 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

KIMBERLY  no  longer  concealed  from  his 
family  the  trend  of  his  thinking  nor  that 
which  was  to  them  its  serious  import.  Dolly  came 
to  him  in  consternation.  "My  dear  brother!" 
she  wept,  sitting  down  beside  him. 

His  arm  encircled  her.  "Dolly,  there  is  abso 
lutely  nothing  to  cry  about." 

"Oh,  there  is;  there  is  everything.  How  can 
you  do  it,  Robert  ?  You  are  turning  your  back 
on  all  modern  thought." 

"But  'modern  thought/  Dolly,  has  nothing 
sacred  about  it.  It  is  merely  present-day  thought 
and,  as  such,  no  better  than  any  other  day  thought. 
Every  preposterous  thought  ever  expressed  was 
modern  when  it  first  reached  expression.  The  dif 
ficulty  is  that  all  such  ' modern'  thought  delights 
in  reversing  itself.  It  was  one  thing  yesterday  and 
is  wholly  another  to-day;  all  that  can  with  cer 
tainty  be  predicated  of  it  is,  that  to-morrow  it 
will  be  something  quite  else.  Present  day  modern 
thought  holds  that  what  a  man  believes  is  of  no 
moment — what  he  does  is  everything.  Four  hun 
dred  years  ago  'modern'  thought  announced  that 

422 


Robert  Kimberly 

what  a  man  did  was  of  no  moment,  what  he  be 
lieved  was  everything.     Which  was  right?" 

"Well,  which  was  right  ?"  demanded  Dolly, 
petulantly.  "You  seem  to  be  doing  the  sermon 
izing." 

"If  you  ask  me,  I  should  say  neither.  I  should 
say  that  what  a  man  believes  is  vital  and  what  he 
does  is  vital  as  well.  I  know — if  my  experience 
has  taught  me  anything — that  what  men  do  will 
be  to  a  material  degree  modified  by  what  they 
believe.  It  is  not  I  who  am  sermonizing,  Dolly. 
Francis  often  expressed  these  thoughts.  I  have 
only  weighed  them — now  they  weigh  me." 

"I  don't  care  what  you  call  it.  Arthur  says  it 
is  pure  mediaevalism." 

"Tell  Arthur,  ' mediaevalism'  is  precisely  what 
I  am  leaving.  I  am  casting  off  the  tatters  of  mediae 
val  'modern'  thought.  I  am  discarding  the  rags 
of  paganism  to  which  the  modern  thought  of  the 
sixteenth  century  has  reduced  my  generation  and 
am  returning  to  the  most  primitive  of  all  religious 
precepts — authority.  I  am  leaving  the  stony  des 
erts  of  agnosticism  which  *  modern'  thought  four 
hundred  years  ago  pointed  out  as  the  promised 
land  and  I  am  returning  to  the  path  trodden  by 
St.  Augustine.  Surely,  Dolly,  in  this  there  is 
nothing  appalling  for  any  one  unless  it  is  for  the 
man  that  has  it  to  do." 

423 


Robert  Kimberly 

Yet  Kimberly  deferred  a  step  against  which 
every  inclination  in  his  nature  fought.  It  was  only 
a  persistent  impulse,  one  that  refused  to  be  wholly 
smothered,  that  held  him  to  it.  He  knew  that 
the  step  must  be  taken  or  he  must  do  worse,  and 
the  alternative,  long  pondered,  was  a  repellent  one. 

Indeed,  the  alternative  of  ignoring  a  deepening 
conviction  meant,  he  realized,  that  he  must  part 
with  his  self-respect.  He  went  so  far  as  seriously 
to  ask  himself  whether  he  could  not  face  putting 
this  away;  whether  it  was  not,  after  all,  a  fanci 
ful  thing  that  he  might  do  better  without.  He 
considered  that  many  men  manage  to  get  on  very 
well  in  this  world  without  the  scruple  of  self- 
respect. 

But  honesty  with  himself  had  been  too  long  the 
code  of  his  life  to  allow  him  to  evade  an  un 
answered  question  and  he  forced  himself  gradually 
to  the  point  of  returning  to  the  archbishop. 
One  night  he  stood  again,  by  appointment,  in  his 
presence. 

"I  am  at  fault  in  not  having  written  you," 
Kimberly  said  simply.  "It  was  kind  of  you  to 
remember  me  in  my  sorrow  last  summer.  Through 
some  indecision  I  failed  to  write." 

"I  understand  perfectly.  Indeed,  you  had  no 
need  to  write,"  returned  the  archbishop.  "Some 
how  I  have  felt  I  should  see  you  again." 

424 


Robert  Kimberly 

"The  knot  was  cruelly  cut." 

The  archbishop  paused.  "I  have  thought  of 
it  all  very  often  since  that  day  on  the  hill,"  he 
said.  'Suppose/  I  have  asked  myself,  'he  had 
been  taken  instead.  It  would  have  been  easier 
for  him.  But  could  he  really  wish  it  ?  Could  he, 
knowing  what  she  once  had  suffered,  wish  that 
she  be  left  without  him  to  the  mercies  of  this 
world?'  The  archbishop  shook  his  head.  "I 
think  not.  I  think  if  one  were  to  be  taken,  you 
could  not  wish  it  had  been  you.  That  would 
have  been  not  better,  but  worse." 

"But  she  would  not  have  been  responsible  for 
my  death.  I  am  for  hers." 

"Of  that  you  cannot  be  certain.  What  went 
before  your  coming  into  her  life  may  have  been 
much  more  responsible." 

"I  am  responsible  for  another  death — my  own 
nephew,  you  know,  committed  suicide.  And  I 
would,  before  this,  have  ended  my  mistakes  and 
failures,"  his  voice  rose  in  spite  of  his  suppression 

—put  myself  beyond  the  possibility  of  more — 
but  that  she  believed  what  you  believe,  that  Christ 
is  the  Son  of  God." 

The  words  seemed  wrung  from  him.  "It  is 
this  that  has  driven  me  to  you.  I  am  sickened  of 
strife  and  success — the  life  of  the  senses.  It  is 
Dead  Sea  fruit  and  I  have  tasted  its  bitterness. 

425 


Robert  Kimberly 

If  I  can  do  nothing  to  repair  what  I  have  already 
done,  then  I  am  better  done  with  life." 

"And  do  not  you,  too,  believe  that  Christ  is  the 
Son  of  God?"  * 

"I  do  not  know  what  I  believe — I  believe  noth 
ing.  Convince  me  that  He  was  the  Son  of  God 
and  I  will  kneel  to  him  in  the  dust." 

"My  dear  son!  It  is  not  I,  nor  is  it  another, 
that  can  convince  you.  God,  alone,  extends  the 
grace  of  faith.  Have  you  ever  asked  for  it?" 

Kimberly  started  from  his  apathy.  "I?" 
He  relapsed  again  into  moodiness.  "No."  The 
thought  moved  him  to  a  protest.  "How  can  I 
reach  a  far-off  thing  like  faith?"  he  demanded 
with  angry  energy— -"a  shadowy,  impalpable,  eva 
sive,  ghostly  thing?  How  can  I  reach,  how  can 
I  grasp,  what  I  cannot  see,  what  I  cannot  under 
stand  ?" 

"You  can  reach  it  and  you  can  grasp  it.  Such 
questions  spring  from  the  anger  of  despair;  de 
spair  has  no  part  in  faith.  Faith  is  the  death  of 
despair.  From  faith  springs  hope.  It  is  despair 
that  pictures  faith  to  you  as  a  far-off  thing." 

"Whatever  it  may  be,  it  is  not  for  me.  I  have 
no  hope." 

"What  brought  you  to-night  ?  Can  you  not  see 
His  grace  in  forcing  you  to  come  against  your  own 
inclination  ?  His  hope  has  sustained  you  when 

426 


Robert  Kimberly 

you  least  suspected  it.  It  has  stayed  your  hand 
from  the  promptings  of  despair.  Faith  a  far-off 
thing  ?  It  is  at  your  side,  trembling  and  invisible. 
It  is  within  your  reach  at  every  moment.  You 
have  but  to  put  forth  your  hand  to  touch  it." 

Kimberly  shook  his  bowed  head. 

"Will  you  stretch  forth  your  hand — will  you 
touch  the  hem  of  His  garment?" 

Kimberly  sat  immovable.  "I  cannot  even 
stretch  forth  a  hand." 

"Will  you  let  me  stretch  forth  mine?"  His 
silence  left  the  archbishop  to  continue.  "You 
have  come  to  me  like  another  Nicodemus,  and 
with  his  question,  unasked,  upon  your  lips.  You 
have  done  wrong — it  is  you  who  accuse  yourself, 
not  I.  Your  own  words  tell  me  this  and  they 
can  spring  only  from  an  instinct  that  has  accused 
you  in  your  own  heart. 

"Christianity  will  teach  you  your  atonement — 
nothing  else  can  or  will.  You  seem  to  picture 
this  Christianity  as  something  distant,  something 
of  an  unreal,  shadowy  time  and  place.  It  is  not. 
It  is  concrete,  clear,  distinct,  alive,  all  about  you 
every  day,  answering  the  very  questions  you  have 
asked  in  your  loneliness.  It  is  hidden  in  the  heart 
of  the  servant  that  waits  at  your  call,  locked  in  the 
breast  of  the  man  that  passes  you  in  the  street.  It 
is  everywhere,  unseen,  unapprehended  about  you. 

427 


Robert  Kimberly 

I  am  going  to  put  it  before  you.  Stay  with  me  to 
night.  In  that  room,  my  own  little  chapel,"  the  arch 
bishop  rose  as  he  indicated  the  door,  "spend  the 
time  until  you  are  ready  to  sleep.  You  have  given 
many  years  to  the  gratification  of  yourself.  Give  one 
hour  to-night  to  the  contemplation  of  God.  May 
I  tell  you  my  simple  faith  ?  The  night  before  He 
suffered,  He  took  bread  and  blessed  and  broke  it, 
and  gave  it  to  His  disciples.  And  He  said,  in  sub 
stance,  'Take  and  eat  of  this,  for  this  is  my  body, 
broken  for  your  sins.  And  as  often  as  ye  shall 
do  this,  do  it  in  commemoration  of  me.'  And  on 
these  words  I  ground  my  faith  in  this  mystery 
of  His  presence;  this  is  why  I  believe  He  is  here 
to-night,  and  why  I  leave  you  with  Him  in  this 
tabernacle  before  you.  If  you  feel  that  you  have 
done  wrong,  that  you  want  to  atone  for  it,  ask 
Him  to  teach  you  how." 

The  archbishop  opened  the  chapel  door.  In 
the  darkness  of  the  cool  room,  the  red  sanctuary 
lamp  gleamed  above  the  altar.  The  archbishop 
knelt  for  a  moment  beside  his  questioner;  then 
he  withdrew,  closing  the  door  behind  him,  and 
the  silence  of  the  night  remained  unbroken. 

An  acolyte,  entering  in  the  gray  of  the  early 
morning,  saw  on  the  last  of  the  kneeling  benches 
a  man  resting  with  bowed  head.  In  the  adjoin 
ing  room  the  archbishop  himself  had  slept,  within 

428 


Robert  Kimberly 

call,  in  his  chair.  He  entered  the  chapel  and  an 
assistant  robed  him  to  say  his  mass  before  his 
single  auditor.  The  service  over,  he  made  his 
thanksgiving,  walked  to  where  the  man  knelt  and, 
touching  him  on  the  shoulder,  the  two  left  the 
room  together. 


429 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

THE  apprehension  that  had  long  waited  upon 
Robert  Kimberly's  intentions  weighed  upon 
his  circle.  It  was  not  enough  for  those  about 
him  to  assure  themselves  that  their  affairs  of  busi 
ness  or  of  pleasure  must  move  on  whether  Robert 
should  determine  to  move  on  with  them  or  not. 
His  aloofness  carried  with  it  an  uncertainty  that 
was  depressing. 

If  he  were  wholly  gone  it  would  be  one  thing;  but 
to  be  not  gone  and  not  of  them  was  quite  another. 
When  Nelson  brought  the  codicil  providing  for 
the  school,  satisfactorily  framed,  Kimberly  had 
changed  his  intention  and  resolved,  instead  of 
incorporating  the  foundation  in  his  will,  to  make 
immediate  provision  for  an  endowment.  When 
the  details  were  worked  out,  Nelson  left  to  bring 
his  wife  home  from  Paris.  Lottie's  first  visit  was 
to  Dolly's  home,  and  there  she  found  Imogene 
and  Fritzie.  She  tiptoed  in  on  the  surprised 
group  with  a  laugh. 

They  rose  in  astonishment,  but  Lottie  looked  so 
trim  and  charming  in  her  French  rig  that  she  dis- 

43° 


Robert  Kimberly 

armed  criticism.  For  a  moment  every  one  spoke 
at  once.  Then  Dolly's  kind  heart  gave  way  as 
she  mentally  pronounced  Lottie  faultless. 

"You  never  looked  so  well  in  your  life,"  she 
exclaimed  with  sincerity.  "I  declare,  Lottie,  you 
are  back  to  the  sprightliness  of  girlhood.  Paris 
certainly  agrees  with  you." 

Lottie  smiled.  "I  have  had  two  great  rejuve- 
nators  this  year — Paris  and  a  good  conscience." 

Fritzie  could  not  resist.  "Do  they  go  together, 
Lottie  ?"  she  asked. 

Lottie  responded  with  perfect  ease:  "Only 
when  one  is  still  young,  dear.  I  shouldn't  dare 
recommend  them  to  mature  persons." 

"You  felt  no  risk  in  the  matter  yourself?"  sug 
gested  Fritzie. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  laughed  Lottie,  pushing 
down  her  slender  girdle.  But  she  was  too  happy 
to  quarrel  and  had  returned  resolved  to  have  only 
friends.  "You  must  tell  me  all  about  poor  Rob 
ert."  She  turned,  as  she  spoke  to  Dolly,  with  a 
sudden  sympathy  in  her  tender  eyes.  "I  have 
thought  so  much  about  his  troubles.  And  I  am 
just  crazy  to  see  the  poor  fellow.  What  is  he 
doing?" 

"He  is  in  town  for  a  few  days,  just  now.  But 
he  has  been  away  for  two  months — with  the 
yacht." 


Robert  Kimberly 

"  Where  ?" 

"No  one  knows.  Somewhere  along  the  coast, 
I  suppose." 

"With  whom?" 

"Alone." 

Lottie  threw  her  eyes  upward.  "What  does 
he  mean?  What  do  you  all  mean  by  letting  him 
get  into  such  a  rut?  Such  isolation;  such  loneli 
ness!  He  needs  to  be  cheered  up,  poor  fellow. 
Dolly,  I  should  think  you  would  be  frightened  to 
death " 

"What  could  I  possibly  do  that  I  haven't  done  ?" 
demanded  Dolly.  "No  one  can  do  a  thing  with 
Robert  when  he  is  set.  I  have  simply  had  to 
give  up." 

"You  mustn't  give  up,"  protested  Lottie  cou 
rageously.  "It  is  just  the  giving  up  that  ruins 
everything.  Personally,  7  am  convinced  that  no 
one  can  long  remain  insensible  to  genuine  and 
sincere  sympathy.  And  certainly  no  one  could 
accuse  poor  Robert  of  being  unresponsive/' 

"Certainly  not — if  you  couldn't,"  retorted 
Fritz  ie. 

Lottie  turned  with  amiability.  "Now,  Fritzie 
dear,  you  are  not  going  to  be  unkind  to  me.  I  put 
myself  entirely  out  of  the  case.  It  is  something 
we  ought  all  to  work  for  together.  It  is  our  duty, 
I  think." 

432 


Robert  Kimberly 

She  spoke  very  gently  but  paused  to  give  the 
necessary  force  to  her  words.  "Truly,  it  would 
be  depressing  to  any  one  to  come  back  to  a  gay 
circle  and  find  it  broken  up  in  the  way  ours  is. 
We  can't  help  the  past.  Its  sorrows  belong  to  it 
alone.  We  must  let  the  dead  bury  the  dead  and 
all  work  together  to  restore  the  old  spirit  when 
everybody  was  happy — don't  you  feel  so,  Arthur  ?" 
she  asked,  making  that  sudden  kind  of  an  appeal 
to  Arthur  De  Castro  to  which  it  is  difficult  to 
refuse  assent. 

"Certainly  we  should.  And  I  hope  you  will  be 
successful,  Lottie,  in  pulling  things  together." 

"Robert  is  at  home  now,  isn't  he  ?" 

"He  has  been  at  home  a  fortnight,"  returned 
Arthur,  "but  shut  up  with  the  new  board  of 
directors  all  the  time.  MacBirney  walked  the 
plank,  you  know,  last  fall  when  Nelson  went  on 
the  board." 

"I  think  it  was  very  nice  of  Robert  to  confer 
such  an  honor  on  Nelson,"  observed  Lottie  sim 
ply,  "and  I  intend  to  tell  him  so.  He  is  always 
doing  something  for  somebody,"  she  continued, 
rising  to  go.  "And  I  want  to  see  what  the  con 
stant  kindness  he  extends  to  others  will  do  if  ex 
tended  to  him." 

"She  also  wants  to  see,"  suggested  Fritzie  to 
Imogene,  as  Dolly  and  Arthur  walked  with  Lottie 

433 


Robert  Kimberly 

to  the  door,  "what  Paris  and  a  good  conscience, 
and  a  more  slender  figure,  will  do  for  him." 

"Now,  Fritzie!" 

"If  Robert  Kimberly,"  blurted  Fritzie  hotly, 
"ever  takes  up  again  with  Lottie  Nelson,  I'll 
never  speak  to  him  as  long  as  I  live." 

"Again  ?  When  did  he  ever  take  up  with  her  ?" 

"I  don't  care.  You  never  can  tell  what  a  man 
will  do." 

Imogene,  less  easily  moved,  only  smiled.  "Dolly 
entertains  the  Nelsons  to-morrow  evening,  and 
Robert  will  be  asked  very  particularly  to  come." 

Kimberly  did  not  return  home,  as  was  expected, 
that  night.  At  The  Towers  they  had  no  definite 
word  as  to  whether  he  would  be  out  on  the  follow 
ing  day.  Dolly  called  up  the  city  office  but  could 
only  leave  a  message  for  him.  As  a  last  resort 
she  sent  a  note  to  The  Towers,  asking  Robert  to 
join  them  for  the  evening  in  welcoming  Lottie. 
Her  failure  to  receive  an  answer  before  the  party 
sat  down  to  dinner  rather  led  Dolly  to  conclude 
that  they  should  not  see  him  and  she  felt  no  sur 
prise  when  a  note  was  handed  her  while  the  coffee 
was  being  served.  She  tore  it  open  and  read: 

"DEAR  DOLLY: 

"I  am  just  home  and  have  your  note.  I  am 
sorry  not  to  be  with  you  to-night  to  join  in  wel- 

434 


Robert  Kimberly 

coming  the  Nelsons.  I  send  all  good  wishes  to 
the  little  company,  but  what  I  have  now  to  tell 
you  will  explain  my  absence. 

"I  had  already  made  an  appointment  before  I 
learned  of  your  arrangements  for  the  evening. 
Father  Pauly,  the  village  clergyman,  sleeps  to-night 
at  The  Towers  and  I  am  expecting  him  as  I  write. 
He  does  not  know  of  my  intention,  but  before  he 
leaves  I  shall  ask  him  to  receive  me  into  the  Ro 
man  Catholic  Church. 

"ROBERT/' 

Dolly  handed  the  note  to  Arthur.  He  asked  if 
he  should  read  it  aloud.  She  nodded  assent. 

Fritzie,  next  morning,  crossing  the  lake  with 
flowers  for  Alice,  was  kneeling  at  her  grave  when 
Kimberly  came  up.  She  rose  hastily  but  could 
not  control  herself  and  burst  into  tears.  Kim 
berly  took  her  hands  as  she  came  to  him.  "Dear 
Fritzie,"  he  murmured,  "you  haven't  forgotten." 

"I  loved  you  both,  Robert." 

They  walked  down  the  hill  together.  Fritzie 
asked  questions  and  Kimberly  met  her  difficulties 
one  after  another.  "What  great  difference  does  it 
make,  Fritzie,  whether  I  work  here  or  elsewhere  ?  I 
want  a  year,  possibly  longer,  of  seclusion — and  no 
one  will  bother  me  at  the  Islands.  Meantime,  in 
a  year  I  shall  be  quite  forgotten." 

435 


Robert  Kimberly 

Charles  Kimberly  was  waiting  at  The  Towers 
for  a  conference.  The  brothers  lunched  together 
and  spent  the  afternoon  in  the  library.  Dolly 
came  over  as  they  were  parting.  "Is  it  true, 
Robert,"  she  asked  piteously,  "that  you  are  going* 
toMolokai?" 

"Not  for  weeks  yet,  Dolly.  Much  remains  to 
be  arranged  here." 

"To  the  lepers?" 

"Only  for  a  year  or  two."  He  saw  the  suffer 
ing  in  her  face  and  bent  over  her  with  affection 
ate  humor.  "I  must  go  somewhere  for  a  while, 
Dolly.  You  understand,  don't  you  ?" 

She  shook  the  tears  from  her  long  lashes. 
"You  need  not  tell  me.  Robert,  you  will  never 
come  back." 

He  laughed  tenderly.  "My  heart  is  divided, 
Dolly.  Part  of  it  is  here  with  you  who  love  me; 
part  of  it,  you  know,  is  with  her.  If  I  come  back, 
I  shall  find  you  here.  If  I  do  not  come  back,  I 
shall  find  her  THERE." 

In  a  distant  ocean  and  amid  the  vastness  of  a 
solitude  of  waters  the  winter  sun  shines  warm  upon 
a  windward  cliff.  From  the  face  of  this  gigantic 
shape,  rising  half  a  mile  into  the  air,  springs  a 
tapestry  of  living  green,  prodigal  with  blossoms 
and  overhanging  at  intervals  a  field  of  flowers. 

436 


Robert  Kimberly 

On  the  heights  of  the  crumbling  peak  the  wild 
goat  browses  in  cool  and  leafy  groves.  In  its 
grassy  chimneys  rabbits  crouch  with  listening  ears, 
and  on  the  sheer  face  of  the  precipice  a  squirrel 
halts  upon  a  dizzy  vine.  Above  its  crest  a  sea- 
bird  poises  in  a  majesty  of  flight,  and  in  the  blue 
distance  a  ship  sails  into  a  cloudless  sky.  This 
is  Molokai. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  the  morning  sun 
strikes  upon  a  lowland,  thrust  like  a  tongue  of 
fire  into  the  cooling  sea,  and  where  the  lava  meets 
the  wave,  breakers  beat  restlessly. 

On  one  shore  of  this  lowland  spit,  and  under 
the  brow  of  the  cliff,  a  handful  of  white  cottages 
cluster.  On  the  opposite  shore  lies  a  whitewashed 
hamlet  brightened  by  tropical  gardens  and  shaded 
with  luxuriant  trees;  it  is  the  leper  port.  Near  the 
sea  stands  a  chapel  surmounted  by  a  cross.  Be 
yond  it  a  larger  and  solitary  cross  marks  a  second 
village — the  village  of  the  leper  dead. 

An  island  steamer  whistled  one  summer  even 
ing  for  the  port,  and  a  landing  boat  put  out  from 
the  pier.  It  was  the  thirtieth  of  June.  Three 
passengers  made  ready  to  disembark,  two  of  them 
women,  Sisters  of  St.  Francis,  who  had  offered 
themselves  for  the  leper  mission,  and  the  third 
a  man,  a  stranger,  who  followed  them  over  the 
steamer's  side  and,  rearranging  their  luggage,  made 

437 


Robert  Kimberly 

a  place  for  the  two  women  in  the  stern  of  the 
weather-beaten  craft. 

It  was  the  close  of  the  day  and  the  sun  flowed 
in  a  glory  of  gold  over  the  sea.  On  one  edge  of  the 
far  horizon  a  rain  cloud  drifted.  In  the  east  the 
moon  was  rising  full  and  into  a  clear  sky.  A  heavy 
swell  lifted  the  boat  from  the  steamer's  side.  The 
three  passengers  steadied  themselves  as  they  rose 
on  its  crest,  and  the  brown  oarsmen,  catching  the 
sweep  of  the  sea,  headed  for  the  long  line  of  foam 
that  crawled  upon  the  blackened  rocks. 

On  the  distant  beach  a  black-robed  figure  out 
lined  against  the  evening  sky  watched  with  strain 
ing  eyes  the  sweep  of  the  dripping  oars  and  with 
arm  uplifted  seemed  to  wait  with  beating  heart 
upon  their  stroke  for  him  who  was  coming. 
Along  the  shore,  cripples  hastening  from  the  vil 
lage  crowded  the  sandy  paths  toward  the  pier. 
In  the  west,  the  steamer  was  putting  out  again 
upon  its  course,  and  between  the  two  the  little 
boat,  a  speck  upon  the  waves,  made  its  way 
stoutly  through  the  heaving  sea. 

THE   END 


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THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SUITORS.    By  Meredith  Nich- 
olson.    Illustrated  by  C.  Coles  Phillips  and  Reginald  Birch. 

Seven  suitors  vie  with  each  other  for  the  love  of  a  beautiful 
girl,  and  she  subjects  them  to  a  test  that  is  fnll  of  mystery,  magic 
and  sheer  am usement. 

THE  MAGNET.    By  Henry  C.  Rowland.    Illustrated  by  Clarenc* 
F.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  remarkable  courtship  involving  three  pretty 
girls  on  a  yacht,  a  poet-lover  in  pursuit,  and  a  mix-up  in  the  names 
of  the  girls. 

THE  TURN  OF  THE  ROAD.  By  Eugenia  Brooks  Frothingham 
A  beautiful  young  opera  singer  chooses  professional  success 
Instead  of  love,  but  comes  to  a  place  in  life  where  the  call  of  the 
heart  is  stronger  than  worldly  success. 

SCOTTIE  AND  HIS  LADY.     By  Margaret  Morse,    Illustrated 
by  Harold  M.  Brett. 

A  young  girl  whose  affections  have  been  blighted  is  presented 
mth  a  Scotch  Collie  to  divert  her  mind,  and  the  roving  adventures 
of  her  pet  lead  the  young  mistress  into  another  romance. 

SHEILA  VEDDER.    By  Amelia  E.  Barr.    Frontispiece  by  Ham 
son  Fisher. 

A  very  beautiful  romance  of  the  Shetland  Islands,  with  ? 
aandsome,  strong  willed  hero  and  a  lovely  girl  of  Gaelic  blood  a* 
heroine.  A  sequel  to  "Jan  Vedder's  Wife.'* 

JOHN  WARD.  PREACHER.    By  Margaret  Deland. 

The  first  big  success  of  this  much  loved  American  novelist 
It  is  a  powerful  portrayal  of  a  young  clergyman's  attempt  to  win  hif 
beautiful  wife  to  his  own  narrow  creed. 

fHE   TRAIL  OF   NINETY-EIGHT.    By  Robert  W.  Service 

Illustrated  by  Maynard  Dixon. 

One  of  the  best  stories  of  " Vagabondia  *  *  ever  written,  and 
one  of  the  most  accurate  and  picturesque  of  the  stampede  of  gold 
seekers  to  the  Yukon.  The  love  story  embedded  in  the  narratir* 
,s  strikingly  original, 

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The  Master's  Violin 


By  MYRTLE  REED 


A  Love  Story' with  a  musical  at 
mosphere.  A  picturesque,  old 
German  virtuoso  is  the  rever 
ent  possessor  of  a  genuine  Cre 
mona.  He  consents  to  take  as 
his  pupil  a  handsome  youth  who 
proves  to  have  an  aptitude  for 
technique,  but  not  the  soul  of 
the  artist.  The  youth  has  led  the 
happy,  careless  life  of  a  modern, 
well-to-do  young  American,  and 
he  cannot,  with  his  meagre  past, 
express  the  love,  the  longing,  the  passion  and  the  trage 
dies  of  life  and  its  happy  phases  as  can  the  master  who 
has  lived  life  in  all  its  fulness.  But  a  girl  comes  into 
his  existence,  a  beautiful  bit  of  human  driftwood  that 
his  aunt  had  taken  into  her  heart  and  home ;  and  through 
his  passionate  love  for  her,  he  learns  the  lessons  that  life 
has  to  give — and  his  soul  awakens. 

Founded  on  a  fact  well  known  among  artists,  but  not 
often  recognized  or  discussed.] 


If  you  have  not  read  "LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE"  by  the 
same  author,  you  have  a  double  pleasure  in  store — for 
these  two  books  show  Myrtle  Reed  in  her  most  delightful, 
fascinating  vein — indeed  they  may  be  considered  as  mas 
terpieces  of  compelling  interest. 

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The  Prodigal  Judge 


By  VAUGHAN  KESTER 

This  great  novel — probably  the  most  popular  book  in 
this  country  to-day — is  as  human  as  a  story  from  the  pen 
of  that  great  master  of  ' '  immortal  laughter  and  immortal 
tears,"  Charles  Dickens. 

The  Prodigal  Judge  is  a  shabby  outcast,  a  tavern  hang 
er-on,  a  genial  wayfarer  who  tarries  longest  where  the  inn 
is  most  hospitable,  yet  with  that  suavity,  that  distinctive 
politeness  and  that  saving  grace  of  humor  peculiar  to  the 
American  man.  He  has  his  own  code  of  morals — very 
exalted  ones — but  honors  them  in  the  breach  rather  than 
in  the  observance. 

Clinging  to  the  Judge  closer  than  a  brother,  is  Solomon 
Mahaffy — fallible  and  failing  like  the  rest  of  us,  but  with 
a  sublime  capacity  for  friendship ;  and  closer  still,  perhaps, 
clings  little  Hannibal,  a  boy  about  whose  parentage 
nothing  is  known  until  the  end  of  the  story.  Hannibal 
is  charmed  into  tolerance  of  the  Judge's  picturesque 
vices,  while  Miss  Betty,  lovely  and  capricious,  is  charmed 
into  placing  all  her  affairs,  both  material  and  sentimental, 
in  the  hands  of  this  delightful  old  vagabond. 

The  Judge  will  be  a  fixed  star  in  the  firmament  of 
fictional  characters  as  surely  as  David  Harum  or  Col. 
Sellers.  He  is  a  source  of  infinite  delight,  while  this  story 
of  Mr.  Kester'  s  is  one  of  the  finest  examples  of  Ameri 
can  literary  craftmanship. 

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HIS   HOUR.    By  Elinor  Glyn.    Illustrated. 

A  beautiful  blonde  Englishwoman  visits  Russia,  and  is  vio 
lently  made  love  to  by  a  young  Russian  aristocrat.  A  most  unique 
situation  complicates  the  romance. 

THE    GAMBLERS.      By  Charles  Klein  and  Arthur  Hornblow. 
Illustrated  by  C.  E.  Chambers. 

A  big,  vital  treatment  of  a  present  day  situation  wherein  men 
play  for  big  financial  stakes  and  women  flourish  on  the  profits — oi 
repudiate  the  methods. 

CHEERFUL  AMERICANS.    By  Charles  BatteU  Loomis.    Illus 
trated  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn  and  others. 

A  good,  wholesome,  laughable  presentation  of  some  Americans 
at  home  and  abroad,  on  their  vacations^  and  during  their  hours  of 
/elaxation. 

THE  WOMAN  OF  THE  WORLD.    By  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 

Clever,  original  presentations  of  present  day  social  problem? 
and  the  best  solutions  of  them.  A  book  every  girl  and  womai? 
should  possess. 

THE    LIGHT  THAT  LURES.    By  Percy  Brefcner. 
Illustrated.     Handsomely  colored  wrapper. 

A  young  Southerner  who  loved  Lafayette,  goes  to  France  to 
aid  him  during  the  days  of  terror,  and  is  lured  in  a  certain  direction 
by  the  lovely  eyes  of  a  Frenchwoman. 

THE  RAMRODDERS.        By  Holman  Day.       Frontispiece  by 
Harold  Matthews  Brett. 

A  clever,  timely  story  that  will  make  politicians  think  and  will 
make  women  realize  the  part  that  politics  play— even  in  their 
romances, 

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